My Vital Regions
by sweetness4theheart
Summary: The brain is as much a vital region as the heart; too bad America couldn't deal with the memories. So he forgot, stayed the hero but it couldn't last forever.  Regrets are there for a reason and America, it's time to remember yours. AmericaxWorld, AmeriCan, RuPru. InsaneAmerica. GerIta.
1. That proverbial noose just keeps hanging

That proverbial noose keeps hanging over me

'Hang hang, pretty girl, hang that pretty neck of yours.'

* * *

><p>He had been my mentor, my protector, my saviour, my father.<p>

My _father. _Because sweet Abraham Lincoln, I'd loved him, truly and deeply. I'd wanted his approval, I'd wanted _him_, beside me, near me, staring in shock as I threw a nicely-sized bison at him in laughter, growing flustered as mocked his scones and giggling to myself when he talked with those things he called 'Fairies.'

He said I was acting like a naughty child, well at least I didn't see things that weren't there!

But then I'd gotten older, and he started to tighten that, what was the word Mattie said – that proverbial noose around my neck. And more than the lack of freedom **(confinedconfinedconfined) **it had hurt because he didn't trust me. He didn't love me.

I had just been a colony, a young colony raised up to be his, to owe him money, to be his resource in the never-ending fight against France. Because him and that rose-covered bastard were always fighting about something.

I started to talk back (well, more than often) and this time a little pat on the head or offer of playing in the grass wouldn't distract me. My tone had no longer just been a whine but there had been bite to my voice, words said that were aimed to _sting. _

I didn't want to, I loved him, I truly did/had – will always? I don't know. I should ask Mattie, he's better with this stuff than I am.

But he backed me in a corner, he waved away my protests and my people's protests and I had always been so _free _before him. I could go where I want when I wanted but now he wanted me to smile and dress and act like a proper little colony.

And the second I finally thought 'Fuck no,' it had been the defining moment, the split realisation that I couldn't take this anymore, that I wouldn't take this anymore. He's hurt _my _people, his people had _injured _mine. Even if no one died.

But he wouldn't _listen._

So I'd raised my gun to his forehead and spoke the words that one half of me feared to say, but the other half so determined, so full of _rage, _had barely been holding back.

"Give me my freedom or I will take it."

And the human side of me, the Alfred side of me, just wished that England has listened, that Arthur had wanted me to succeed in this world, to make a great nation out of myself.

"You dare think you can stand against me? I raised you, I protected you, you are _nothing without me!"_

My people had been screaming for freedom, crying out against second-class treatment and taxes that took away from those that needed to live. I wasn't allowed in parliament, I barely had my own under England's rule, and he wouldn't listen. You were meant to serve the Empire, the Crown, and it only.

But this was my country and my people and he just wasn't listening.

So even though my insides were warring with each other, even though I could see that stubborn set to England's jaw and that tiny bit of '_please don't do this'_ under all that fury and indignation, I narrowed my eyes and stuck to my decision. I betrayed my brother, my father/family/love because he betrayed me first.

"Then this means war."

* * *

><p>*-Some certain years later because I really can't be bothered to count because hey, hero's aren't controlled by callenders, <strong>they <strong>control thecallenders. Yeahh-*

"Alfred, Alfred."

I threw myself out of my chair, screaming in agony (it was agony damnit I swear, not that a hero would admit that cause I'm all tough and burly) when all my beautiful, lovely, sweet, innocent but fatty fries fell to the floor.

"Nooo." And I scooped them, ignoring the slight blistering on my fingers because hey, I was a nation, and too much of a hero to be stopped by lame-ass stuff such as grease-burns. Though, that did remind me, maybe I needed to tell Obama to set up some courses about that stuff, because shit, grease was deadly.

"Alfred," another creepy sigh and I glanced around. Wondering who said that. M-maybe it was a ghost?

"I'm not a ghost," said the ghost and I immediately grabbed on to my chair, noting the wispy legs right in front of me.

"I'm sorry Mr. Ghost! I didn't mean to offend you with my lack of sharing my awesome fries, but I'll be the hero now and give you some cause that's what hero's do." And I finished it up with a giant upturned thumb, though my crouching on the floor made it lose a bit of its awesomeness.

Well, I didn't want to send the ghost to the afterlife with all my awesomeness. I was just – toning it down for him, that's all.

I opened my eyes (when had I closed them?) holding out blistering fingers filled with fatty fries to Mr. Ghost.

"Alfred. Your fingers are burning."

Huh. That voice sounded like someone's I knew. Someone…familiar.

That freaky-bear thingy stared at me with its dead, soulless eyes.

"Hey Mattie. What's up? How long ya been here?" I glanced around. "Where'd Mr. Ghost go?"

Mattie sighed, and hey, that wasn't cool, cause he was my brother you know?

"Alfred, there was no ghost, it was me the whole time. You just forgot about me…again."

I laughed and shoved some fries into my mouth – no point wasting them.

"What do ya mean? I could never forget about you Mattie. You're my brother." Because that would be a completely un-hero thing to do, and I was a hero.

Canada gently placed that freaky bear on the ground.

"Who?"

"Canada," was the well-ingrained response. "Now be safe Kumadaro." I wouldn't say that I understood their relationship and he was pretty sure that the things name wasn't Kumadaday, but hey, whatever worked for them. People didn't get me and Tony though I thought that was weird but I was meant to keep his existence all secret and the stuff which annoyed me cause Tony was totally cool but whatever. Gotta do what the boss says. Most of the time anyway.

"So what's wrong Mattie? Do you need something? What can the hero do for you today?"

Matthew sighed, again (seriously, did I need to beat someone up?) and sat down beside me. I – now finished with my fries – starting licking all the grease off because that stuff was still burning.

That freaky polar monkey-thing just stared at Matthew with its dead eyes than crawled off in search of something to send to the deepest depths of hell with its gaze. I shivered, watching it, and vowing to protect whatever innocent it would decide to attack.

"Everyone has gone home for dinner America."

My eyes widened and I glanced around the conference room, noting the distinct lack of fed-up and bickering Nations.

"Whoa, when did that happen?"

Matthew nudged his leg against mine, brow furrowing. "Honestly. You're the host America, how could you get distracted?"

His voice, always so quiet and soft made me cringe, because it just sounded so disappointed. I hated it when he sounded like that.

"Are you doing that thing again?" I asked, nudging Matthew back. "You're calling me America and your using that voice, and those words."

I moved around on my bum, looking for a napkin to wipe my fingers (because Mattie had been staring at them with that wrinkled – cute – nose of his and I didn't want him to use that voice again.)

A napkin was held out to me and I wiped my fingers clean.

"What were you thinking about?"

I paused mid-wipe, only to tense and ball the napkin up, aiming for the bucket on the other side of the room. It went in, because that's what Hero's do.

"Yeahh. Did you see that Mattie? Did ya, did ya, did ya, did ya?"

My brother smiled. "Yes, Alfred, I did see it."

I cheered. "Hey, you said my name! Wicked. I don't like it when you call me America." And it was now my turn to wrinkle my nose, Texas moving upwards as a result. "We're bro's you know?"

"When you remember," came the quiet response.

I frowned and reached out an arm to pull my brother into a hug. "I always remember you," and I paused for a second, not liking this weird atmosphere that felt too tense and full of _something. _"Sometimes I just don't notice you, but I do that with everyone you know? And I'll always be here for you Mattie. You know why?"

My little/big – twin? Brother glanced up at me, with his beautiful violet eyes behind his own glasses. Matthew had always looked a little bit like a girl but he hated it when I teased him about it. I didn't mean it in a bad way, he was adorable, because shit, I loved the slimness of hips and the length of his legs and the way he shivered whenever I 'accidentally' passed my hand of his little curl.

He rolled his eyes, but still leaned into my arms. "No, tell me why."

I grinned. "Because I'm your hero."

The wind hammered against the window without warning, and I noticed that it was dark outside.

"Hey, what time is it?"

"Five, Alfred. The meeting finished half-an-hour ago."

I frowned down at Mattie, poking him on the nose just for the hell of it (and it was hysterical to see him go cross-eyed.)

"Why are you still here then?"

Matthew answered with no hesitation. "Because you were thinking."

I cocked my head, not getting it. My twin obviously realised because his lip quirked up.

"It's always dangerous when you start thinking."

"Hey," I whined automatically. "That's not fair." And I gave his curl a little pull, delighting as he shivered in my arms.

"A-alfred," He shouted (well moaned – breathily might I add too) as loud as he could, which really wasn't that loud but I always loved the sound of it. Maybe another day I'd think about why I did (and the fact that it went a lot deeper than just my play-flirting) but really, I didn't want to think about that now, I had much more important things to do.

"Don't do that," Canada admonished as he half-heartedly slapped my hands away.

I grinned widely and buried my nose in his hair, just breathing in that comfortable, _familiar _scent but I was hit with something else.

Fire, the smell of fire, and burning and – I pulled away. Tearing myself from around his body.

"Alfred," Canada asked. "Alfred, what's wrong?"

I breathed in heavily. Trying to contain that emotion that couldn't possibly be fear because I was the hero and I wasn't scared and it had happened all so long ago.

I wouldn't ever forget Canada, forget Matthew, because he wasn't someone you should forget about.

"Sorry," I said, and tried to laugh it off but Matthew wasn't having any of that.

"Alfred," a gentle hand held onto my jaw and I flinched. "Tell me."

I shook my head and breathed in his scent again, purposely not thinking of fire and burning and him standing over me and screaming, tears pouring down his face.

"Sorry, just a bad memory, nothing to it."

That gentle hand – it stayed so soft even when calluses had formed from holding sniper guns during the war, but now it was unmarked in this time of peace – paused in its stroking (when had that started?) and I met violet.

"Has this been happening all day?" He asked and sometimes I really, and I mean _really, realllly disliked it _when he could always see through me. I couldn't do the same to him, because I'd never expected that retaliation all those years ago from my sweet, cute, innocent little Mattie.

I shook my head but Matthew's eyes narrowed.

"Don't lie to me America."

Aww, damn, that tone again.

"It's nothing," I said and it started to rain outside.

"There's nothing wrong with remembering Alfred, it's a part of who you are. And I – it was me wasn't it? – I did something horrible to you."

I moved quickly, pressing my forehead to my brothers, because he sounded so sad, so _guilty _when it wasn't his fault.

"I started it, it wasn't your fault."

"I wish it had never happened."

But we both knew that he couldn't, wouldn't take it back because Matthew was a better Nation than others that had lived three-times our life-span and he would always, _always _love and protect his people. I'd pushed and pushed and he'd showed me how strong he truly was and he'd been in the right. Even though it had seared the meat of my heart and drawn long keening wails from my throat.

I didn't like being in the wrong, but for this and only to him, I would admit I'd done a very unheroic thing.

His forehead was warm against mine, that soft hand resting against my cheek. We stared into each other's eyes, glasses nearly touching.

"So do I, but it did, and I – I deserved it, but it wasn't you I was thinking about today, it –" I swallowed. "- It was just other stuff, you know?"

Matthew brushed his nose against mine and he was _mine, I'd wanted him and he'd sided with England and I would force him to be with me – _

"England?"

I nodded, burying those thoughts away because that's not what a hero thinks and the Civil War (any war for that matter) was something I never wanted to remember even if it made my people who they were and a Nation worth of England's respect. Not that he did – the crazy old tea-drinking bastard.

"The War?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Just – it's just getting close again you know, and it's been a while since everyone's been here, and I just – I just got thinking."

Matthew laughed and drew back to cuff me over the head.

I pouted and folding my arms.

"Told you that you thinking was dangerous. I'm surprised the world hasn't blown up already."

"Hey, so not cool bro. I too can think."

Matthew just chuckled and stood, holding out his hand for me. I grabbed it and he yanked me up with strength that others like Germany had only seen firsthand.

There was a reason Germany was always polite to my brother – never yelling at him (though he had no problem in that regard to me.)

I kept my hold on his hand, for just this second, because I was still a hero, always would be, but I just wanted that safety, that feeling of him beside me that always anchored me to the ground. I'd been so alone once, so, so alone, and bad things had happened and I'd – I'd done bad things – things that hero's shouldn't do but Matthew, I wouldn't ever turn against Matthew like that again.

It was England's fault. It was. But we were fine now, mostly, and I needed to stop thinking about these things, because what, it'd been 200? 300? Years now? I hadn't thought about it in years, needed to get over it, seriously.

"Let's go, I'll make you some pancakes," Mattie said and I grasped him in a giant bear-hug, ignoring his pleas for air. I could deal with these memories later because it would be another meeting tomorrow and right now I was getting me some pancakes from my awesome, hockey-obsessed brother. And I wasn't going to think about him on the ground, screaming and clawing at the dirt as I burned his capital, as I tore into York.

He'd thrashed in my arms and my two sides warred with what to do. To hold him down and tear his clothing from his body, to make him _love me love me be with _me or to stop it and let him cry his agony out through fingernails digging into my arms.

I was going to block that bit out because I loved him and that love had been a little messed up and twisted at one point.

I blamed England.

His supressed sexual desires obviously demented mine, because you know, invading your brothers vital regions just because he made your vital regions go hard as the Statue of Liberty's liberties totally wasn't a hero thing to do.

Especially when you were going through a split-personality moment.

One that had lasted four years.

"Alfie?" And he was calling me that name that only he called me, so I let out my breath, fixed Texas and shrugged off Matthew's concerned glances.

I wasn't that person anymore, hadn't been that person in years.

So why were the memories all suddenly coming back?

* * *

><p>So, I couldn't stop myself. I've just been reading WW1 - ArthurAlfred too much, and I usually don't read historical fics – though I love them – and I just needed to write some Hetalia! Gah! I don't quite know where this story is going, but it's gonna do some awesome flashbacks to the Independence War, some serious angsting of America and I have a serious love for Canada, so hm, well – I'm a multiple pairing person so just enjoy!

Definite pairings: America/England, America/Canada, Russia/Prussia, FACE.

*Edit: Thankyou Fleurdelyse - It was York that got burned. And Canada retaliated by burning down Washington.

They burned each other's Capital's people. That's how it went down. One shouldn't mess with Canada, because Canada will mess you up.

*Edit: Just updated this on the 25th of Jan (Australia day! Happy Birthday Australia.)

Oh and I am Australian, therefore I spell arse like ass, color like colour and mom like mum. A lot of my words have a 'u' in it so please try to remember that. I will try to keep to American lingo when writing America but it was very difficult for me to write fries instead of chips. It just felt so wrong.


	2. It's hunger pains baby

It's the hunger pains baby that make me go crazy

-*So yeah, yeah, I know this guy that knows this guy and guess what? They're both the same guy*-

* * *

><p>"Sit down America!"<p>

"No. Why don't you sit down? This is my country and I'm talking, so listen to my awesome plan on how I'm going to save the world once again."

England picked up his folder and threw it at me but I subtly dodged it with all the skill that I have. Which is lots. Let me tell you.

"Missed Iggy," I teased and stuck my tongue out, to which France snickered.

"You're aim is deplorable mon Angleterre, it must be old age, non?"

"Go crawl back into whatever rose-covered hole you climbed out of you stinking piece of French meat," England sneered back and I took the moment to pick his folder up off the ground and throw it back.

My aim was much better, I'll have you know.

"America," England roared and I ducked behind Japan, not hiding because heroes don't do that, but just wanting to be close to my awesome friend. Who was awesome.

And always backed up my plans for giant killer robots to clean up the world's pollution problem. And yes, they did need to be killer robots. Cause it just wouldn't be as cool if they weren't, you know?

"Get off me, stupid Spain," the loud, red-faced (hey, just like a tomato) guy shouted and kicked Spain in the face.

"Eh, Romano, why? Don't you love your boss?"

"NO," Romano yelled, folding his arms and turning away as his face went even redder. Spain pouted, tears in the corner of his eyes and obviously holding himself back from holding onto red-tomato-faced guy. I think he was one of the Italies.

I was like 95% certain, and heroes are so amazing that they can go on that amount.

"Ne, ne, Doitsu, can we get some pasta, I really want some past," that other little Italy guy said, the one who was always half-wrapped around Germany, always calling him that weird name and never opening his eyes. Actually, it was pretty freaky. Who knew what he was hiding behind those killer eyes.

Wait! Ah! Italy was actually evil and planning to take over the whole world.

So I threw another random folder (where did they all come from?) at Italy, because I had to save everyone.

"I know what you have planned Italy-guy-who-never-opens-his-eyes! You're planning to take over the world with your pasta and bury us under your evil over-lord pasta that will make us bow down before them and serve them all the tomatoes they want."

Someone screeched "my panda folder," and I shivered when I heard Russia's Commie "da, that is no good, is it now? Ve must go to my room and console eachover. You agree, da?"

Germany's insane reflexes saved Italy however, and he snapped. As he did every meeting.

"Everyone sit down now and let America finish his speech, because he has ten minutes left and then it will be question time, with which you will all refrain from stupid questions that I'm positive you will be able to contain if you want to live and then we will desist for lunch. Do you all understand me?"

The exclamation marks weren't even needed in my head, because Germany was so loud he blew them away. Honestly, he even overpowered me, (volume wise, not in any other way) and I was the hero so that was obviously wrong, you know?

"Your breasts belong to Korea Da~ze," interrupted a high-pitched voice and I peeked over Japans shoulder to see Korea trying to grope Australia. Australia just cocked his head and watched with an amused smile as his killer Koala glared and pounced.

"Better be careful mate, she bites."

I saw that evil little polar bear smile too, it's fangs almost dripping with blood and my cute, little Mattie was none the wiser to the monster he held in his delicate arms. Whoa, wait, I could see him.

Awesome. That didn't happen often, so I waved at him and he waved back shyly, smiling. Switzerland, the crazy gun-wielding guy narrowed his eyes at me and then my brother. Taking a moment to actually focus on his wispery appearance.

Yeah, whatever. Canada was awesome like that, like a ninja. He'd just go boom! Sneak up on you, and you'd be dead. Or like a ghost. Not that my brother was a ghost. Because ghosts weren't – they weren't real okay?

"Gah! This did not originate in Korea. Definitely not Da~ze," and Korea started rolling on the ground.

Now, obviously this was a time for my super-awesome-secret-just-made-up-on-the-spot plan to kick off.

"Okay. Back to my plan," I jumped up, ruffling Japan's hair, despite his cry of displeasure.

His cry.

Japan screaming. His people burning. Two whole cities wiped out. All because of me.

I stumbled, grasping at my head, because it was splitting beneath my skull, tearing itself apart as the memory came clawing out from the dark confines.

I'd felt them all die, every single goddamned one. The feeling of sea water rising up to my chin/their chin and then it was in our lungs and we were drowning and we _couldn't get out _of this metal death trap and we/I was going to die and nononono, I wanted it to stop, needed it to stop.

Why? Why would Japan do this? Why would Kiku do this to me? He betrayed me, he attacked me.

_I was going to kill him._

It was there, again, that side of me that the Civil War had brought out, the anger, the hate, the all-consuming rage to just tear apart my enemies myself, to just kill, kill, anyone around me and drag their dead corpses to my bed to keep them there. They couldn't leave me, they all left me, but I wanted to be alone. Didn't I?

If I stayed away, if Kiku – Japan, had let me stay away, then I wouldn't have been writhing on the oval table, with my Boss calling my name and his wife crying tears as I screamed out "Stop, stop, Kiku, you're killing them," but he brought me into this war. He turned against our treaty, he backed out on his word, he _lied_, so I was in this war too now.

But I was/had been, so angry, so even though I'd seen the far-off potential of these 'atom' bombs, I hadn't said no. It was my Boss's decision, but at the same moment, if I refused, if I – as his country – refused, then my President would not go through with it.

Well he could, but there would be a very high-chance that he'd be kicked out of the government. That's if I didn't get to him first. Because you don't ignore your Nation unless you're corrupt. Or Hitler.

But Hitler was just psychotic.

So I'd agreed and waited, and sent off innocent boys – so angry, I could feel their anger, just like I could still feeling the grieving of all those families, and Hawaii's landscape torn up with bullets and bombs she'd never even heard of before.

I'd sent them off to make war, no, I'd been retaliating, but the bombs dropped, not one, but two. And Japan's shirt was drenched with his own blood, his wounds gaping with the flesh rotting and it _steamed _and I'd leant over him, full of vindictive pleasure at the sight but then I wasn't that America anymore, I wasn't Civil War America, Independence America, WW1 America, WW2 America, but just me, Alfred.

And my hands were around Japan's neck, squeezing tightly even as he cried out and his body shook as Nagasaki stilled burned, as the innocents – _because they were innocent, they weren't the ones who started this war, neither had my own people _– fled from the cracks in Hiroshima's surface and I screamed with Japan, tears dripping down my cheeks even as Japan died.

Japan died, the blood pooling underneath us. And then I opened his mouth, forced air back into his lungs and made him breathe again.

It was too much, I hadn't expected so much, but at the same time I should've known. I'd wanted him to bleed and feel his people's hurt just as I'd felt mine. I'd wanted no more war, I'd wanted none of Germany's 'superior' race or to have to fight alongside my old mentor, my old _England _once again. I'd just wanted to stay away and visit Mattie when I needed some pancakes to fill my belly.

"A – America-s-san," Japan had gasped when he'd awoken, brought back to life as I pumped his chest again and again.

"I won't let you stay dead Japan, I won't."

I couldn't say it was me being a hero, that I was saving Japan because I felt guilty for the horror **(so guiltyguiltyguilty) **or because it was the right thing to do. I'd felt sick to my stomach, bile rising in my throat as I saw the extent of what _I'd done _to Japan. But he'd forced me and I _hated _him for it and I wanted to say sorry but I didn't and I kept him alive because he deserved to suffer but it hurt to see him pleading underneath me, begging.

"Let me die! Let me die! America-san. Please, please, I beg of you."

Maybe I'd kept him alive just so I'd never do it again, so I'd never use those awful bombs even when I was so clouded with red and my hands shaking with all my people's deaths. Because I hadn't known then that people would keep dying long after the dust had settled and Japan had been redressed and stitched up. I hadn't known about radiation and cancer and that story of _a thousand cranes._

A thousand cranes, a thousand lives, just numbers. Numbers and numbers of all the dead.

"I can't let you die Japan."

"Alfred, please," he shrieked, back nearly bending backwards as he contorted and the bones in his body snapped.

"No Kiku," I said, trying to see out of my blood-spattered glasses. "You don't get to call me Alfred anymore."

Regrets, they really do haunt you.

* * *

><p>"Alfred? Are you okay?"<p>

I felt like someone had wrapped their hand around my throat, had squeezed my tendons and blocked off my airway as I felt thousands of thousands of my people die in an instant. I was half on the table, Kiku's eyes wide with worry but it was Canada by my side, holding my face in his hands. His gentle, gentle hands.

"Alfie, Alfie, did it happen again? Tell me you're okay? Please. Say something."

I coughed. I'd already felt them die, it was just a memory.

"What the bleeding hell is wrong with him?" Man, England's voice sounded high-pitched when he was freaking out. Boy was it funny. Too bad my throat wouldn't laugh.

Matthew pulled me up, made me focus on his face, on his eyes, and asked me again.

"Alfred. Can you hear me?"

I sucked in a rattling gasp. "Yeah, fine. I'm fine."

His face pinched even tighter with worry, those little lines around the corners of his eyes lengthening. He pressed forward and rubbed his nose against mine, but I could feel the fine trembles of his fingers against my skin, the barely-contained shake.

"It's nothing," I said, but I couldn't turn and look at Kiku – Japan – behind me, because he had scar all down his back and chest. Something was clawing its way inside of me, something so bitter and fuelled by hate that it scared me and I didn't want to feel it.

"America-san?"

I tensed and sucked in another gasp, reaching out to place my hands on top of Matthew's.

"Mattie."

"Alfred, what is going on?" England shouted again and I had to get out, get out, get out, now.

Other voices rose up, in concern, in annoyance, fear, uncertainty. It didn't matter.

But Kiku touched my shoulder and I shrieked, grabbing Matthew, shoving him towards Japan, and hiding my face into Matthew's back. I wasn't hiding, I wasn't. Hero's didn't hide.

"W'at is wr'ng wit'im?" Was Sweden's barely understandable words and Canada, my Canada, _crying and his skin ripping itself apart, _got their attention.

"Shut up. All of you just shut up now!"

The room went silent and I just tried not to think. Not to feel. Because there was something sticky on my fingers and I could swear it was blood. But I wasn't bleeding you know? Hero's don't bleed. I was/am a hero.

"Wait … who are you?"

A hero. A hero. Mattie's hero. They forgot him again.

"Mattieu~" France began, speaking over that other idiot, but my hero, my brother, must have thrown him a hard glare cause the former owner of Canada shut up. But Japan obviously didn't get the point.

"America-san? Did I offend you in some way?"

He couldn't speak to me, he had to stop, because I couldn't listen and not change that voice to the one it had been, begging me for forgiveness, just begging me to let him die. I twitched but didn't say anything.

"Nothing is wrong," Matthew said slowly. "America and I are just going to take a break now. We will be back soon."

"Hey, what did the awesome me miss out on?" Said that irritating voice and it seemed Prussia had actually come into the conference today – however late (I was saying an a pretty wicked speech and he'd been missing it.)

I tightened my grip in Mattie's shirt (when had that happened?) but we didn't get to move because England was pushing his way through the Nations (a very annoyed Poland "Hey, don't like, get your tea-hands all like, over my nice shirt, kay? Liet, look what he did," and Greece finally waking up with an elbow to his face) and trying to get around Canada.

"Let me see him."

Canada tensed and I needed to stop this because I was _America _for goodness sakes and even though I loved Mattie, I was the hero, I was meant to be the strong one.

"No."

Matthew started walking backwards, taking me with him and I breathed in his scent, not imaging fire (why was it always burning with me?) and keeping my eyes closed.

"Alfred," there was hesitation but England was never one to back down. "Are you … in an … are you –" he changed over to Matthew, "is he … injured?"

"Yes, what is wrong with comrade Amerika? I only like seeing dis vhen I am the cause of it, da? Kolkolkol."

Okay, even I didn't have to open my eyes to imagine everyone trying to stealthily moving away from Russia and that freaky-flame of communism that always appeared around him.

I stopped, Matthew stopped moving too and I held my hand up to my head. Because it felt like my brain had shrivelled up and the insides been dried out and a hard, sharp piece of rock been placed in there instead.

But I was the hero, so I gave my brother one last squeeze, stepped from out behind his shadow (I'd never done that before) and smiled grimly at everyone.

"I'm fine, sorry about that, it was nothing. Let's continue the meeting."

England frowned and Canada watched me carefully.

"America," came Hungary's no-nonsense voice, "there is no point if you are … unwell."

I tried to grin but doubled over as pain flashed through my skull. I grasped my hair and thought that maybe pulling out my hair would help. It wouldn't. I knew that. But the thought was there.

"It's," – restrained gasp – "nothing. Just a little, headache."

"That's some headache, Alfred," England said and I would've, should've been overjoyed because it was the most he'd said my name in one day in the last 200 plus years

"Thanks Iggy," I glanced up, ready with some smart-ass retort on my tongue but Japan was still in his seat and he was staring at me.

I ripped my eyes away from him and nodded to Matthew (it was more to myself, but who needs to know that?)

"Actually, I'm going to go get some food. That's obviously all I need," and I rubbed the back of my head, not looking anyone in the face. "So I'm gonna go get some Mickey D's kay? Bye everyone."

And I carefully, calmly, walked out of the room.

I did not run.

"Wait. Alfred," Mattie called, following after me as I reached the door, swerving around Prussia. Prussia who stared at me confused with his head cocked and that tiny bird flying around his head.

"Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with ya?" He asked, hand out and grabbing onto my arm to touch me.

"Don't," Canada yelled but it was too late and he was touching me and memories, memories, they were coming back. Germany and Prussia, they'd fought against me, they'd drawn me into the Second World War and Prussia should be dead, because we'd dissolved him, _I'd dissolved him_, it had been one of our stipulations, the Allied Countries.

But he didn't die, though we forced his people out in droves and he felt them die, one by one until they were so displaced that they couldn't recognise him as their nation anymore, until they were no longer his and he felt the absence of them. He started to pale and those deep black bags under his eyes were something I only saw once before I pushed him out of my mind, before Russia had to shackle and break him down so he'd stop fighting to get back to his brother. I left him with Russia, left him separated from his brother for so many years (and god, how much would it kill me to never see Mattie for that long, to know he's just over a wall, stuck under a crazy mad-man?) because my people were scared, _so scared, _and Prussia was the centre of it all, the origin of Nazism.

I yanked my arm out from under his grasp and threw him into the wall, following with a fist pressed to his chest.

"What the hell man?" But I breathed in his scent and could remember that _fear_, that fear of disappearing and what he would do not to. The desperation, I wanted him desperate and if he was desperate than he'd do whatever I wanted and I could _have him_, under my thumb. Mine, mine, mine.

"Gilbert," and my voice was soft and my blood pumping and god, but I wanted to see those red eyes widen in fear again. Beg me, beg me. "I think I have some shackles in my room, wanna go play Berlin Wall all over again?"

"America," the others yelled.

"Bruder!" Came Germany's pissed off voice.

And Prussia punched me in the face (well tried to) but I caught his hand and smashed it against the wall, chuckling darkly and loving those red eyes so full of fury.

"You asshole. Don't you dare bring that fuckin up."

"Alfred," Canada was behind me and I narrowed my eyes. "Calm down, please. Listen to me. It's just Prussia, just Gilbert. You don't mean this."

"Oh Mattie," I smiled, something twisting in my face that made Prussia's eyes widen. "I think I do -". Prussia kicked me in the stomach and I flew back, smacking into the corner of the door.

"America." Mattie again and if he didn't shut up I'd have to tie him down and gag that pretty little mouth of his.

But it wasn't Mattie blocking my view of Prussia anymore but Canada. Canada glaring at me with furious eyes.

"Calm yourself America. You are better than this."

I hissed back at him, baring my teeth. He thought he could tell me what to do? To order _me? The great America_? He? Tiny little pathetic Canada, that dared to burn down my Capital. He was my brother, he was supposed to pick my side, not England's. Didn't he want freedom? Didn't he know how amazing we could be together?

My head throbbed and I gasped, coming back to myself. Oh god, what had I done? How could I have said that?

I looked up and all the Nations were staring at me, Germany already by his brother's side, but it was Canada who took the step forward.

"America?"

I laughed, well, it was more a cough and the mere movement made my whole body ache.

"Sorry, sorry. It's me." I glanced up at Prussia, who still looked furious, but this time I noticed the cracked wall around his body. Damn, I'd really put force into that hit.

"Sorry," I said again, to Prussia this time. "Sorry Prussia, that – just forget about that – I didn't mean it 'kay?"

"America, why did you do that aru?" China asked, playing with with the creepy panda doll in his hands as everyone looked to me for an answer.

"How dare you say that to my bruder? I will not tolerate it."

With one last glance at Canada, and a quick avoidance of England's eyes (I couldn't even brush my eyes over the blackness of Japan's hair) I swallowed.

"That – let's just – I just need some food 'kay? So I'm gonna leave, and come back and everything will be fine."

And I got as far away from them as possible.

As I said, calming walking. Cause Hero's don't run.

* * *

><p>*Updated 22/12

So, America's going a little pyscho! Yay! I'm really getting an idea on where this fic is going. And that little Prussia bit was a last minute add cause, hey, I thought, Prussia's freakin awesome and I can picture him randomly attending these conferences just to p' everyone off.

Oh! I completely wanted to put this in but couldn't find a way to do so.

Okay: So, there is like this five metre block of cement in Germany called 'Prussia' and there is also this 1000 person town in Canada called 'New Prussia', so I'm going off that, that Prussia actually does have some land/people left. Because I don't want Prussia dead. Cause he's awesome.

And it was a big thing that the Allied Nations (in terms for Germany's surrender) said that Prussia would get abolished as a Nation (though all the land on that side went to Russia who actually wasn't as adamant for Prussia's abolishment cause they had history.) And since Germany and Prussia were separated until 1990/1 (wow, that's not that long ago) I really think it would've hurt the two brothers to be kept apart like that.

Oh, America saying "Let's go play Berlin Wall," in his dark, sensual voice just kept replaying over and over in my head. Shivers. Oh, my gosh, cause I'm imaging that Prussia didn't have that good of a time, what with always trying to escape and Russia can be a little sadistic. I pair those two together hardcore man.

And poor Japan. Gosh, I love Kiku. And I got Australia in (just letting you know, Koala's are violent, they may be cute, but they will claw your face off if you piss them off.)

So! More of Alfred's regrets/memories are coming back! How will he deal with this? And how will the other Nations react to America's seemingly split-personality?


	3. Rearing it's ugly head

Rearing its ugly head

-*I'm a mess, I'm a mess, but Arthur honey, I'm at my best. I'm King of the G8, the good ol' States, but I think all this crazy, is just coming in late.

* * *

><p>This didn't make any sense. My economy wasn't that bad. Well, I was in debt to China (but then again I was always in-debt to that panda-lovin she-man), I had the war in Iraq, but that had been going on for years and I had the usual natural disasters (which weren't nice to feel, let me tell you.) But Obama was doing a pretty bang-up job so far and we'd finally got that asshole who'd dared to bomb my towers (a memory I'd rather not go into right now.) So why was my mind filled with all these old thoughts and old hates and <em>so much hatredwantminelust.<em>

I never wanted to go back to my Civil War self because my own mind had torn itself apart and everyone was friend/foe, mine/Arthur's, what-do-I-do?

I'd barely lived through half the crap the other Nations had gone through, I'd only had one Civil War (I had no idea how France survived all the ones his people had thought were a great idea) and we all knew that Russia spent majority of his history half crazed. I was the hero, I was the leader.

I was a superpower. I didn't have time for this crap to come back and rear its ugly head. Even if they were recollections of my undefinable ability to come out on top, and also, anything related to me is not ugly, even bad memories. Cause geroes are good-looking, suave, steamy, they go in and save the lady (unless that ladies one tough girl and believe me, Mattie's a tough chick.)

I stuffed the cheeseburger in my mouth, the seventeenth in an hour and even I was starting to feel a little nauseous. My people meandered around the park, none sitting beside me on the bench though they all looked as if they wanted to come over and console me. Human's knew us but they didn't _know us. _They felt something if they saw me, they loved me (just like I loved them) but we didn't really show our faces to the world. Assassination worries and all that. Though really, the Commie walked around without his heart sometimes which was _fucked up_ but yeah, we Nations were a tough bunch to kill, don't think it's actually possible unless your whole civilisation just dies off or falls. Dissolution's an iffy one cause some died but others (a certain self-proclaimed Awesome albino German brother) just stick around so you can play an epic three day long marathon of _Dead Walkers._

So I was feeling a little guilty when a girl started crying at the sight of me and her mother tried to shush her, tears building up in the corner of her own eyes.

I tried to smile at them, to soothe it over and the little girl was running full pelt at me, encircling my waist with her tiny arms.

"Please don't be sad mister," she cried and I set my food aside.

Resting my hand on her hair, I stroked the softness, delighting in the way she was healthy and mostly happy (a quick look into her emotions let me see that she was well-cared for and loved by her family.)

"Oh I'm fine. It's nothing the amazing me can't handle." I smiled at the mother who had ran over after her daughter and she gingerly smiled back, a little bit of awe in her eyes. She recognised who I was.

"Then why are you so sad?"

I cocked my head and poked her nose when she looked up.

"Just some not so good things happened but I'll be fine. That's why I got me some Mickey D's, to make me feel better." The little girl sniffled and her mother reached out to pat her back. "Then I'll go see my brother and he'll give me a big hug and everything will be okay."

The girl, blonde-haired, brown-eyed, tugged at my shirt. "I feel better when Mummy hugs me."

I leant down and placed a gentle kiss on the girls fringe covered forehead. "Yeah, and when Mattie gives me a hug I'll feel better too."

Picking up the girl, I returned her to her mother, who grasped her daughter in her arms but couldn't tear her gaze away from me. She was a strong woman, she worked two jobs and loved both her children dearly, even though the father had cheated and left her.

I hated it when my children hurt each other, but I was thankful that I didn't have to know the individuals. A Nation couldn't function if they reacted to every single death every moment, every single pain, so it only worked if many died at one moment, there was a war, a natural disaster, or one of the most painful things, invasion.

Invasion hurt like a bitch and I could sense everything when it happened. Seriously, the urges to punch England in the face still came around every now and again. And it'd been nearly 300 years.

But I was over it. Completely.

I just liked having a really loud Fourth of July celebration. And inviting him to it.

Which Matthew said was passive-aggressive, but (after checking the dictionary) I said it was totally more him then me. I think he said something passive-aggressive back, I don't remember, I just remember feeling vaguely guilty and promising him a match against my hockey team.

Wait, why would I do that? Mattie kicked ass at hockey (not that I didn't either, he just, uh, got very violent when he played and I was the hero and heroes shouldn't go around with bruises on their faces – not that it doesn't look completely and utterly badass.)

Anyway, back to invasion. Thank Madame Liberty I'd never been taken over.

I gently touched the mother's cheek and smiled, my blue eyes warm with happiness at being around these two. A tear fell from her eyes and trickled down over my hand.

"Now you two run along and I'll be fine. Cause I'm the hero, you know. I worry about you guys, not the other way around."

The two held onto each other tightly but straightened their backs, firm in their resolve.

"Yes, Mister," said the little girl and "thank you America, sir," said her mother. My people were so strong and I was so proud of them. So I wouldn't let them down.

They left and my smile faded, but not my resolve. I cleared the bench of all the food wrappings and placed them in a bin. I wasn't going to let some stupid memories change who I was and I wasn't going to make my people worry. There were more important things I needed to do.

And one of them wasn't walking out halfway through a Summit after attacking an innocent, previously abolished Nation.

Crap.

* * *

><p>-* In which it's been over an hour since I left and now I'm trying to tell Matthew, really, I'm okay*-<p>

"You freaked out," Matthew yelled (well, said in a normal voice, honestly, how does he expect people to remember him if they can't even hear him speak?)

I shuffled on my feet, happy it was just us two in the luncheon room (Mattie told me the others had gone to a restaurant whilst he said he'd deal with me – supposedly Germany was already armed, which was frightening from the usually controlled Nation.)

"It wasn't that bad," I mumbled. Honestly, it wasn't. So I'd gone a little, uh, aggressive on Prussia. I wasn't that bad.

"You couldn't even face Japan."

Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten about that. Oh well, best to keep forgetting it.

"There was a window behind him Mattie, big shining glaring sun and you know how Texas feels about burning. He gets hot enough as it is."

"Alfred, I had to go all Canada on you."

I rocked back on my chair, pushing off as I attempted to balance. Cause I was so amazing I didn't even fall, I just balanced. With my amazingness.

Cause heroes can do that stuff.

"Alfred."

Wait, who was talking to me?

The random guy next to me sighed. "It's Canada. You're brother." I blinked.

"Oh, oh. I know. I just uh, blanked out for a moment there." And I really had. I knew who my brother was, he just tended to phase out of sight sometimes. As I said, he was a ninja. Seriously.

"Yes. Well, as I was saying. You freaked out. I had to go Canada on you. So what happened?"

I slammed my chair back down. "Nothing. Nothing happened."

"America."

"Canada," I whined back, really not wanting to talk about this.

"Everyone will be back for the meeting in thirty minutes so I need to know if you can handle it."

I gave an aghast expression (yeah, I knew what aghast AND expression meant, stick that in your face Iggy), because really, I was the hero. Of course I could handle one silly meeting.

"Okay. Then do you want to tell me what happened?"

"No."

Canada pouted, my Mattie pouted, that cute little full lower lip popping out and just _begging _for me to taste it.

"Don't you trust me?"

His lip was trembling and I dived to hug him.

"Don't cry Mattie! I love you bro. Let me kiss it better." And I gave him a quick peck on the lips, not quite thinking but just reacting.

I paused mid-kiss, staring wide-eyed at my brother. His lips were so soft and I wanted more and _this could have been mine, mine, mine._

I yanked myself back with a gasp, and cheeks stained red.

"Ah, yeah. All better now," I coughed. Mattie's cheeks were painted that adorable rosy colour that he always made look so good and crap, this was freakin awkward, and the last time I'd kissed my brother on the lips there'd by crying and screaming and –

And the memories were lingering in the air and I _didn't want to remember them_ –

And that's when England came barging in, a tea satchel flying at my face (who the hell carry's those things around with them? Next you'd know he'd be throwing his knitting sticks at me.)

"They're not called knitting sticks you insufferable git."

I grabbed the tea satchel, sniffing it and frowning at the god-awful smell. "Well, what are they – wait – did you read my mind?" I turned to Matthew frantically because shit, if Iggy could read my mind then he'd find out about all that stuff I did when we lived together and he'd never found his floral-pattered tea set even though I never took it out of the house.

I couldn't really remember where I'd hid it anymore anyway.

"Matthew, he read my mind. He's a robot," because he couldn't be an Alien, Tony would've told me.

Wait, where was Tony? I hadn't seen him in a while.

Oh well, probably playing my video games and kickin some zombies ass. Though I was the one with the top score, cause I rocked.

"He's not a robot Al," Mattie sighed and I think he was trying to move past the kiss because he kept fidgeting and rubbing his knees together in that way that made me want to throw him down and make him spread'em.

Ahaha, cops, I needed to watch that show again. Cause you don't mess with America cops, because they'll mess you up right back. My people were awesome and hard-core like that.

"You should pretend to be a druggie and I'll be a cop, kay Mattie? That way I can tell you to drop and spread 'em. Haha." And maybe I was trying not to respond to England's presence cause I _did not _want to talk about what I knew he wanted to talk about. Cause it was none of his business and there was nothing wrong with me.

Canada screeched. "I'm not a druggie." England tore his eyes away from me and actually raised those ginormous eyebrows (I wondered if maybe they were the cause of earthquakes in his cities – wait, did England even have earthquakes? Okay, they just drowned. Under that rain. That was there. All the freaking time.)

"Matthew my dear boy, I hate to agree with America," –insert glare here- "but you cannot deny that you are … affiliated with … numerous illicit substances."

Matthew bit his lip and rubbed his hands together. My little brother was just a mess of rubbing skin and I really wanted to get in on that.

I really wanted to play cops and little cute Canadians now.

"I, I merely realise the medicinal benefit of such substances and control them in a safe and secure manner." Then my little brother scowled that sweet scowl that only really scared me and Germany since we knew what he could be like. Well not me, cause Mattie didn't scare me. Like ever.

Germany's just a pussy, a scary, ex-nazi pussy. With a loud voice and an evil, wanna-take-over-the-world Pasta guy who hangs off his arm.

"Dude it's still illegal," I said to which England rolled his eyes and went to speak but realised he'd been distracted from he'd come here to do.

"America, don't change the subject, and keep your perverted thoughts about your brother to yourself. I don't want you corrupting him with all that so-called music and coffee and fast-food addiction your country has."

I snorted and threw the tea-bag straight back at him. "At least I'm not doped up on marijuana. And if Mattie wants to play bend em' and spread 'em with me than that's between Mattie and me." And I smirked. "Unless Iggy's been infected by France after all this time and wants to join in?"

"Leave Papa out of this," Canada whined and England turned bright red, hands shaking with the effort not to hit me.

He changed subject, skilfully avoiding my attempt to make him so angry that he forgot why he was here. Unfortunately, he changed back to the subject I didn't want him to focus on.

"Is something wrong with your country Alfred? You are acting … in a most peculiar fashion."

I snorted. "I acted like a jackass don't you mean?"

England smacked me over the head and plomped down on the seat beside me. "Fine, I thought I would be polite about this matter but I should've known there's no point being civil with someone like you."

"Hey, just because I make you _feel,_" and I wiggled my eyebrows, "emotions, doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it."

"You don't make me feel anything other than annoyance you exasperating fool," England screeched, pushing off my feet (because his lap had looked so comfy for a hero's foot and maybe he could give them a message too.)

"Iggy," I whined. "Don't you love meeeeeeee?"

Now his face was almost as red as that tomato guys, the one Spain always blathered on about. Ray-ray? Was his name Ray-ray?

What sort of country was called Ray-ray? Seriously. And people thought I was an idiot, at least I had a cool name.

England furrowed those huge eyebrows of his (again, I wonder if there was reported quakes anywhere near London right about now) and crossed his legs. He thought it made him look like a gentleman.

I'd versed him in the war okay, this boy could go all pirate and completely reject his 'gentlemanly' attributes.

"Matthew, do you know what is wrong with your brother?"

Matthew glanced up at me then away. Not saying anything. "Matthew?"

I barged in. "Hey, stop asking stuff about me when I'm right here." England shot me a glare but we both couldn't keep our eyes of Mattie, who was fidgeting and biting his lip and gosh, he was just so adorable. "Mattie doesn't want to tell you so back off."

Really, I should've expected it. I mean, England may have (finally) recognised my independence but he had moments of paternal I-need-to-know-everything-and-protect-you-from-it. It was nothing like the restraints he'd wrapped around me all those years ago and even though it was annoying, I always felt that tiny bit of relief, relief that he still cared.

Who wouldn't care about the amazing me anyway?

But England got angry and grabbed me by the tie, yanking me forward until we were eyebrows to eyebrows (seriously, his had to be half his continent!) and he spat out his words (not literally, cause just eew.)

"Do not lie to me. Something is wrong and it's making you go pyscho. You attacked Prussia and brought up something that I thought you had enough sense to keep quiet about. You freaked out after ruffling Japan's hair and now you and Matthew are hiding in a room, speaking about things you dare to keep from me." I swallowed and Texas was slightly askew.

Iggy was furious.

"I have been alive longer than you've been a Nation, don't you dare to presume that I won't notice these things."

"It's none of your concern."

Another yank, back and forth, back and forth and Iggy was screaming. "It is my concern, you are my concern."

I grabbed his hands, because I was sick of my head flopping around. "I am not yours anymore, didn't the war make that obvious? You have nothing to do with me."

Okay, maybe I shouldn't have said that, because the flash of disbelief and wounded indignation across his face wasn't something I really wanted to see.

He threw me back and Canada reached out to catch me.

"Fine. If it's none of my business than I see no point being here. God forbid I could actually care about someone as selfish and bigoted as you."

"Wait – Arthur – I didn't-"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it." Arthur said but he couldn't quite school his face to match his words.

"Arthur," Matthew began, "please, he didn't mean it like that. It's just –" insert wary glance at me. "I don't know exactly what's happening, he hasn't really told me either." Another chew of his lip, tightening of his arms around me and I was watching Arthur. Arthur who'd paused mid-step to leave this room and who was actually listening to Canada.

Yeah, they had a different relationship. Arthur was my old dad, my old mentor, brother, friend? But I'd left and Canada hadn't. He'd taken a different road and got his freedom in a different way.

I couldn't have waited as long as he did but then again, Canada was always more patient than the American people. They had to be with the harsh, cold winters, living off of the crops they'd grown in the summer. Matthew had helped his people, toiled the land, and always enjoyed a giant blob of maple syrup on his food (when he ate because Matthew always gave his food to the children in those harder times.)

So now Mattie was going to tell Arthur and Arthur was gonna get all angry. Cause he always got angry. It's how he dealt with things.

"He, he doesn't mean what he says, but, he's. I don't know. Alfred," both turned to me. Oh, pressure, pressure. I kept focused on the wall in front of me cause Matthews legs were either side of me, his chest pressed firm against my back and the edges of his hair brushing against my cheek. So close, the line of his jaw was right beside my ear.

Who the hell knew an ear could be this sensitive? Though with the way Iggy's always turned red to match his face I should've known.

I should know a lot of things, and I do, cause heroes do, but I didn't know what was happening to me.

"What is happening to you, m'boy?" Arthur finished and I sighed. I didn't want to tell them but well, Iggy _had _been around for a long time (old man) and he might know what was happening to me and well, I hated keeping things from Matthew. He'd just blink up at me with his big, violet eyes and I felt inexplicably guilty. Yeah, inexplicably, a word that just seemed to always hang around Matthew and guilty. (Abraham Lincoln told me that word, and he was a pretty smart dude. Nice beard as well.)

I rubbed my nose and Arthur sat back down on the chair, glancing down at the two of us who were on the floor.

"Crap Mattie, you got over here fast," I noted and he just squeezed me, both of them waiting for me to answer.

"Fine," I sighed, bringing my legs up, not quite sure what I was gonna say and really, they were making a much big deal out of this. Even the thought of another burger didn't make me happy.

And that just proved how messed up things were going to get.

* * *

><p>Insert Arthur and a teabag!<p>

I had this finished a while ago because I was on a roll, but I needed a few bits of info about Canada's climate from Zaura Fay, so I hope you were all waiting with anticipation.

I will now unsaddle from my Kangaroo from a hard day of travelling across the diverse Australian land. Just kidding, I'll go write the next chapter.

Until next time and thank you all my lovely reviewers. You make me want to write more, more, more

**Edit: 9/2/12: Steadily going through the chapters and fixing up stuff before I put up chapter 13.


	4. I'm a Capital type of guy

I'm a Capital type of guy

-*Let's play a little game, let's pound at my door, till you're bleeding from your nails, and I'm sweating from my pores.*-

* * *

><p>Deep breath in, out. Slight feel of nausea: check, someone holding me: check (wait, who … oh yeah, Mattie) Arthur waiting for an explanation: check. Urge to run very fun away and hide in one of my gorgeous mountains (cause my mountain kick ass! No matter what Switzerland says): check. Gosh, I felt like a colony all over again<p>

Okay. Ready. Set. Go.

"It's nothing, I just keep, you know, getting these memories."

"Memories?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah."

"What type of memories?"

"Just stuff."

"About?" Arthur pressed on.

"About things that have happened." I paused and my tongue felt thick in my mouth. "'Bout things I don't want to remember."

"Oh," was Matthews' response from behind me but Arthur frowned again, leaning forward.

"I don't understand."

"Things happen and I remember horrible stuff I've done, like, that thing with Kiku and the bombing," (years later and I still didn't like saying the cities name) "and then, with Gilbert, I wasn't myself, I – I was just like I was during the Wars, and I was having thoughts that I hadn't had in years and, I couldn't stop myself. I wasn't myself anymore and I don't know why this is happening but yeah. It's nothing to worry about, so can we not talk about it?"

Arthur looked concerned but it was Matthew's face that freaked me those most out. And the shaking, he was shaking around me.

"Mattie?"

"Matthew what's wrong?"

"No, I won't let you. This won't happen again."

"Mattie? What do you mean?"

"I won't let you go back to that. Never again."

I turned to my brother and wondered why the hell Matthew was staring at me like it was the Independence War all over again.

"You didn't deal with all the bad things you've done, did you Alfred?" Mattie said and my expression was all squished up and confused.

"I didn't do anything bad. I'm the hero."

Mattie nodded to himself. "But Alfred, when you don't deal with things they always come back and you change. This has happened before."

"It has?" Both Arthur and I asked and Matthew was nodding his head frantically.

"When?" I asked and I didn't like how Matthew seemed torn between kissing away all my fear and running over to hide behind Arthur.

_As if Arthur could stop me. I'd take both of them. Both of them would be mine._

"Don't you remember Al?" I didn't, what was he talking about. My head hurt, god my head was hurting again and I was bent forward with Matthew brushing back my hair.

"Others hurt you, so you hurt them back, and when they try to leave you snap. You go all dark and scary and then you're burning down my Capital and trying to keep me locked up in your room."

"Locked up in my –" That never happened.

"Yes, brother," Matthew breathed and I winced under the blood rushing in my ears.

"You nearly raped me."

Arthur chocked on air and all I felt was lust.

Lust, so full of lust. Blood lust, gold lust, lust for freedom, lust for power, the power to save everyone. Lust for Mattie. Always, always lust for Mattie. The one I'd always wanted by my side, the one who should lust after me too. I thought I could just take him, so simply, so easily, cause he always seemed so sweet and weak. But he wasn't mine to take, he'd fought me back, he'd pounded at the door with pieces of wood in his hands until blood coated its surface and I came back to my senses.

God. It all started with England didn't it? He tried to keep me contained, he hurt my people, taxed them unfairly and he _didn't trust me_. He hadn't trust me to care for myself and what had I been, just one colony among many? And my people died and they'd died before but I fought with them in the front lines (wait that was a World War, my time was mixed up) and held them close as they took their last breaths. I knew all their names and England had had so many more people die through conquering and war.

I hated him for making me go through it. I hated him because how could I have him if he wouldn't let me be his equal? I wanted to be his equal, my people wanted to be equal.

So I took my freedom.

But it wasn't without a price.

* * *

><p>He beat and clawed at the door, trying to get out, but his heart was still weak from the burning and he was mine now. I wasn't going to let him go. I wasn't going to let my beautiful brother, my sweet, <em>weak <em>little Mattie leave me. Not now. Not ever.

_He was mine._

_Maybe I should just do an England and conquer the whole world. Have everyone under me, mine, mine, mine._

I'd grabbed him by the hair and dragged him, kicking and screaming across the line, the undefended border and thrown him in my room. He cried and yelled and his face was so pretty when it looked like that.

I was sitting on the floor, right outside his door and I pressed my ear against the wood, hearing his pretty little sobs that he tried to stifle. My people were still in his city, still taking down all those who fought against us, against me.

I didn't want Mattie to feel the pain of their deaths but he had to know his place. His place was beside me, _under me, _fighting Arthur all the way.

"Alfred! Alfred, I'll kill you for this, I'll kill you," he shrieked and I cast a satisfied smile at how much emotion he was showing. He had always been so polite, so nice, but it wasn't entirely sincere and little Mattie was smart. He was waiting and biding his time and he thought I didn't notice. I was his brother, of course I noticed.

But he still chose Arthur, he chose Arthur over me.

I didn't care what their relations were like, I didn't care that nearly all of Matthew's people were loyal to that English bastard because they should be angry, just like I was angry. They should be loyal to me.

I stood up, straightened my blue jacket and wiped the smudge of smoke off my face. Confident I opened the door and Matthew came barging out, wild with pain and indignation. His little polar bear was on the ground, fur matted with blood.

I didn't want the thing to be dead, that would upset Matthew, and it had protected him very well. It cared for him. Even though I was the only one Mattie needed.

"America," he roared and tried to punch me, but my poor little Mattie was still gasping and soot covered his cheeks and clothes so I grasped his delicate little wrists and threw him on the bed.

He went to get up but I was on him in a moment, grabbing the shackles around the bed and chaining him down. Lucky I had them, though I'd planned them only for fun times, never thinking that Canada wouldn't come willingly.

Oh well. We'd still have fun.

A lucky knee got me in the stomach so my fingers were pressing down on his throat and the chains clinked as he yanked his arms. His legs were still free, but I covered his small body with my much larger one and forced him into the mattress.

"Mattie, Mattie, Mattie," I chided and he wasn't getting enough air in, but those beautiful eyes were filling up with tears and they spilled over. Down and down his cheeks and the fire in those eyes. Oh.

I shivered on top of him and loosened my grip.

_It was beautiful._

"You shouldn't have fought against me brother, really. I didn't want to hurt you. But you know I'm right, don't you? This wouldn't have happened if hadn't have chosen _him _over me."

"Get off me you pyscho! How dare you think I'll just sit back and let you _invade me?"_ My brother spat back and I frowned.

"I didn't invade you."

He twitched and bucked underneath me and I raised my hand up to stroke the soot of his cheek.

"What do you call burning down my Capital? You came into my land and tried to take over. That's invasion you god-forsaken idiot."

I sat up, keeping his hips pinned between my legs. "I didn't expect you not to agree."

Mattie shook his head and I reached out to take off his glasses, placing them beside the bed. I could see his glares much better now that his glasses weren't in the way.

"So you forced me to? It's not happening America. I will never join your side. I am loyal to England."

I cocked my head, quite surprised. "But he took you from your precious 'Papa', aren't you a little annoyed about that?"

Mattie bucked again and I squeezed his hips, liking the feel it made against the inside of my thighs.

"Shut up about things you know nothing about."

I sighed. "Oh Mattie, Mattie. All I want is freedom, I thought you would see my side."

Honestly, why didn't he? He was too nice for his own good, that was the only reason, he couldn't bear to hurt England. I'd hurt England for him. Everything would be okay. I was just doing what my people wanted.

My people were dying, my head hurt. My heart hurt.

"I will get freedom but not this way."

Enough of this.

I cocked my head. "I love you Mattie, you just have to realise." And I started unbuttoning my shirt. Matthew's eyes widened and he started struggling even harder.

"No. No. America, don't. You don't love me like this. If you do this it isn't love."

I threw off my coat, not caring where it landed and leant down, breathing in Mattie's scent under all that fire and sweat. Nose to nose, eyes staring into each other, I breathed my words against his lips.

"Why so formal? You call me Al remember?"

I pressed a gentle kiss to my brother's lips, not closing my eyes, so I could see the fear and sting of still felt pain on his face.

There was a bit of want there too and we both knew it.

"See, you love me little brother. Just let me love all that pain away."

I licked at his bottom lip, hands trailing down his shirt and reaching inside to play. He gasped and I got what I wanted, tongue diving in and searching for all the little spots that would make him shriek (pleasure this time hopefully.)

He tasted like maple, that maple his native people always loved.

He protested but I swallowed them all, loving the contours of his body underneath my hands. We kissed for however long and he was so warm beneath me. So down I went, kissing away his tears and nipping at his neck. I tore off his clothes and he bucked underneath my care.

"Al, please, please don't do this," he pleaded but I didn't stop. He just had to see how right this was, then everything would be okay. I tore out his belt and ripped off his pants, ignoring the blood drying in its stitches.

He had a large cut across his chest so I pressed an open mouth to it, licking the blood and tonguing the wound.

"Stop it, stop it. Alfred, don't. You don't want to do this. You're my brother. Please."

I nuzzled him.

"It's okay Mattie. I'll make it feel good. We are brothers, we're closer than anyone else. You'll see. I love you."

Matthew cried some more and I looked up, smile wide and eyes alight with joy.

"Let's play a little game shall we?" I didn't wait for his response. "I'm going to touch you and every time you don't say yes I'll go a little further." I put on a thoughtful expression. "Though really that is rewarding you."

"Don't you dare," Matthew tried to demand, so I smirked and wrapped one hand around his vital regions. Loving how it hardened.

He nearly folding in himself and his expression was so shocked.

"Doon't," he let out and gosh, it sounded so good. I gave a gentle squeeze.

"Say my name little brother, say you'll fight me against England."

He shook his head side to side, cheeks flushed, panting and looking oh so lewd and gorgeous. Our coats lay tangled on the floor, red and blue.

I started up and down, bending over to nuzzle that tender spot between his hip and groin.

"Brother, say yes." Tug, tug, his shaking legs underneath me and he bit his own lip to stifle the cry, blood trailing down his chin.

I wanted it, so I took it and he mewled underneath me, his whole body shaking and twitching as the heat build-up in him. God, I wanted this. I'd wanted it for so long and even though I could still feel all the aches and grief of my people, this, this was exactly what I needed in this moment.

"Alfred … I'll get you back … for this." I snickered.

"Sure you will Mattie, sure you will." I reached for his cowlick and stroked it upwards, slightly pulling.

And with that my cute little brother reached his peak, wailing my name, "Alfred, Al, Al," as he came all over my hand.

I gave his limp manhood a little kiss for all its hard work, and eyed the panting mess that was my brother.

Bringing my hand up to my face, making sure to keep our gazes connected, I licked all the way up.

"You said my name little brother. Good boy. Now let's see how far I have to push until you say yes."

* * *

><p>I came back later, and Canada was at the door, pounding and pounding. I hadn't taken his innocence (and my sweet Mattie was still innocent, he'd sworn France hadn't touched him) I'd just shown him how much I loved him, until I'd been called away by my boss. It was irritating and I wanted to finish, but I'd tucked little Mattie in, and (after he begged) I'd picked up that evil polar bear placed it next to him.<p>

He hugged it like he was scared I would kill it but I'd only do that if Mattie forced me too. He wouldn't force me though, I knew he loved me and I knew he loved the bear. So I brushed back his bangs, left a gentle kiss on his forehead and went to deal with all the politics that I would much rather forget.

So I was a little upset when I opened the door because honestly, Mattie was going to hurt himself. He fell forward and I was on my knees, gasping and cooing because there was pieces of wood in my little Matthew's hands. Blood coated my solid-oak door. Maybe I'd strip Canada naked and have him lick the door clean. Eh, I'd have to get it replaced either way.

"Oh sweetie, you shouldn't be so silly."

Matthew looked up, eyes furious. "You aren't my brother, let me go."

"Yes I –" my head was hurting, my head, what was – I dropped Mattie's hands like fire and grabbed my head.

" Mattie, wait, what are you doing here?" Wait, what was he doing, why was he looking at me like that? "I – are you okay?" I saw all the blood over his hands. "What happened?"

Canada was just watching me, seeming a little shocked and the last thing I remembered was burning down his Capital.

"America?"

"I burnt down your Capital … didn't I? Why are you in my house?"

Canada moved back, slowly standing up and I was wondering why he didn't have a shirt on. He stared at me, before going over to the bed and picking up that bear that was always with him.

"Yes, you burnt down my Capital. I'm leaving now."

I frowned. "Don't you want to fight England with me, why not join my side?"

Canada edged past me, and I removed myself from the door way.

"I am loyal to Arthur, Alfred. You know that."

"But why?" I asked. "He oppresses us. Don't you want to fight against that?"

Canada narrowed his eyes, past by me and turned to walk backwards, keeping a wary eye on me. I had just burnt down his Capital after all, I think he was a little iffy of me. He'd forced me to do it though.

_Make him mine._

"I will go about it in a different way America. But for now we are on opposing sides." He seemed to straighten but he still looked so pretty with all that blood over his face. How did blood get on his face? "Goodbye now, brother."

And he left my house though I was still wondering why he'd been here in the first place.

Rubbing my forehead, I eyed the bedroom, with its unkempt sheets and both mine and Matthew's coats in the corner. Oh well, I had a war to fight. I would think about this later. And keep an eye on Matthew, because I had a bad feeling about how he was going to react to my invasion.

The corners of my lips pulled up and I ran my tongue along my teeth, tasting something. Something.

I didn't know. My head titled to the side, I stared at the messy, messy bed.

"Let's play a little game, shall we?"

Why did I say that? I didn't know.

My head hurt.

* * *

><p>So RaineArilan mentioned, amazing person that she is (well, I'm pretty sure she's female….I should ask) that America has been saying some non-American things. Sorry everyone! I'm Australian, I've tried to get into American mind frame but gah, you can only be so awesome.<p>

So one of the main things, is, which I'm sure you've all guessed, is that Macca's is McDonalds. It's just what we call it in Australia, but other than that I hope nothing really confuses you. If it does, send me a pm and I will show you the beauty of my country's language. Cause we're awesome.

Oh, I know Alfred doesn't have Texas at this moment but I don't know what Matthew's glasses represent (or if he's just blind, but I'm pretty sure they both got their glasses around the same point...)

Thank you to all your lovely reviews, I respond to every single one of them, cause you're awesome - I say this word too much in real life, I'm secretly channeling Prussia...or he's channeling me (and if I don't then my internet must have gone stupid and I thought I sent a reply but it didn't sent … or you're an anonymous reviewer.)

This was seriously meant to be an England/America fic, but halfway through the first chapter Canada came into it. So, I'm going with the flow, just think of this as a Canada-arc right now. It's so fun, Canada rocks. And relationships/love is messy and unconventional and you can't help how you _feel_. So mass-pairings!

And my America is creeping me out. I hope you're all creeped out too and it's gonna get wooooorrrrssseeee. Yeah.

Until next time!


	5. Little dissolved Prussia

**Little dissolved Prussia can't get out of his chains**.

-* Russia give you Vodka, da? Russia make you happy, da? Happy da! Vodka da! Bad memories go bye-bye da? Russia knows, all the tricks, these dirty, happy Russian tricks! So Vodka da! Happy da! We all become one, da.*-

* * *

><p>The door creaked open, light shining in a beam that only touched the edges of my feet. I knew who it was, and I didn't shiver. Because I was fucking Prussia and Russia didn't scare me.<p>

His heavy boots smacked down each step, and I was pretty sure he was doing it on purpose, to delight in the glare I sent him with every loud noise. It grated on my ears and tensed my fists.

"What are you doing here you Communist bastard? Got bored of everyone running from you so you came down to see me," I spat out and Russia's eyes were as cold as his landscape. He smiled and I yanked at my shackles, hoping maybe that they would falter under my awesomeness. They didn't this time, but they would, they had too.

"My little Gilbert, you are so cute."

I growled. "Shut up and let me out you prick. I'll smash that ugly face of yours in."

Russia stepped forward, right at the edges of my feet and I tried to kick him. He raised one foot and slammed it down on my shin, forcing my leg into the ground. The bone didn't snap but it felt like it was going to.

"Fat ass," I said and it probably wasn't the best idea because Russia leant forward and slapped me.

Then he was crouched down on the cement floor, leaning over me and stroking that same cheek he had just hit.

"You are Russia's now da? You never leave Russia, cause Russia will not let ye, da.

"Get fucked, West will come and kick your ass."

"Your брат is not coming for you my little Gilbert. It have already been a year. You are mine now Gilbert."

I hissed and tried to bite his finger because it didn't fucking matter, I was too awesome to stay under Russia's control and West would come for me.

He had too.

Russia casually tightened his grip on my face and brought me face to face. I didn't like being this close to the creeper, he made my skin want to crawl off my body but he made me stare into his eyes and I wouldn't back down. I was Prussia, I was still Prussia.

"Little dissolved Prussia, all mine now." It didn't matter, people still remembered me. My brother, Gilbird, my people who fled. They still pined for me and I was Prussia damnit. I was still here. I hadn't faded away.

"Russia is happy."

He kissed me on the lips, our eyes staring into each other and forced his tongue into my mouth. I didn't freakin whimper, I tried to kick, knee, doing something to that fat gut of his pressing into me but he dragged my chin up and deepened the kiss, his stupid tongue swiping along my teeth and all those places I never wanted him to touch.

"Little Gilbert never leave me," Russia pulled back only to say in his stupid accent with his stupid way of speaking and ripped off my shirt.

I yelled a muffled "yes I will," but it was a bit hard to understand with his tongue in my mouth so I bit him. He pulled back with a smile, blood dripping over his lip.

He giggled, like a child that had gotten the present it had been begging for its birthday.

"Mine, mine, mine," he sang.

"Never."

"Oh da," his eyes darkened and I swear I didn't look away at that crazy gleam in them. "You are all mine now."

The shackles stayed on but my clothes didn't.

* * *

><p>"Are you okay Bruder?" West asked and I snapped back.<p>

"Of course I am, I'm freaking as fine as a dandelion."

"Veh~ I don't want Prussia to be upset," Italy whined to which I scowled.

"I'm not upset, I'm too awesome to be upset. Now you and West go away, I want to be alone and revel in my awesomeness.

"But Gilbert –" my bruder began and I cut him off.

"I'm the older brother and I say get, so get going." I reached up and patted Gilbird, agreeing with his chirp that I should stop being so harsh to Ludwig. He was just concerned. "I'm fine. I appreciate it. But it's lunch time and little Ita-chan here is hungry." A happy veh followed that and I smiled. The little guy sure could cheer me up.

With a quick glance to the bouncing Italy (West's cheeks pinkened and really, they should just get it on already, I'd totally join in) West caved. "All right Bruder, but please call for me if you need anything."

I kesese'd. "I'm the awesome Prussia, you'll come to me!" To which Ludwig sighed and dragged Italy away. Much to my relief. Once my bruder was gone I fell against the table and let out a burst of air, my shoulders slumping.

I rubbed my head and closed my eyes, wondering what the fuck had happened to America for him to say that. I was also trying very, very hard not to remember my time with Russia. The things is, I'd only been back with West for twenty years and twenty years wasn't that long to a Nation.

Russia made me shake and it wasn't all fear. Not that I was scared of him, I was too awesome to be scared of him.

"Hello little Gilbert."

I jumped up, hands slamming against the table I was on and Russia peeled out from the corner.

"What the fuck? How long have you been there."

"Kolkolkol. Long enough my Prussian."

I folded my arms across my chest (and I was not shaking damnit!) "Well go away then. I don't want to be around all your Communism."

"I not Communist anymore. You know dat."

Russia stalked towards me and my throat was dry.

"You need me to comfort you, da? Did little Amerika's vords upset you?"

"Hell no," I snapped, edging away as Russia stood in front of me. It wasn't me backing down, it was just, just an awesome tactical retreat. Full of awesomeness.

"Russia miss you," Russia said and grabbed my arm, yanking me against his chest. His scarf didn't hide the eerie smile, no longer child-like, or that gleam in his eyes I recognised so well.

"G-get off of me," and I wasn't stuttering and I wasn't shaking.

Russia leant forward and rubbed our noses together.

"нет I never will."

"I'm no longer yours," I pointed out and Russia placed his large hand against the small of my back. "Anyway, don't you have your little China? Go fuck him and leave me alone." There, there was some of my feistiness.

Gilbird stayed in my hair, I'd taught him to never interfere with this, because I didn't want him getting hurt again.

"You and Yao will join Mother Russia. You know you miss me."

Russia's hand plunged down my pants and grabbed a vital region. I let out a half-strangled scream and dug my fingernails into his chest.

"You bastard, you can't touch me anymore."

Russia chuckled darkly and squeezed. "Oh my little Gilbert, you will tell yourself dat but we will always have dose years between us, won't we da?"

I reached up and punched Russia in the face. He didn't let go and swung his face back to me. The aura around him darkened and his violet eyes lit up. His hand tightened around my vital region and I choked on whatever comment I would have said.

"Still so feisty, even after all dese years. I never got to fully break you, did I?"

I narrowed my eyes (not frantic or half-in pain/lust, whatever, at all), reached down and removed Russia's hand from my pants, not finding any resistance. I threw it away like his touch burned (and it did, but I was too awesome to care.)

"You'll never break me, you bastard."

Russia moved his head forward and I jerked mine back but he followed, the other hand still on the small of my back.

"I will play Berlin Wall with you one day again, my little Gilbert. And you won't get away dis time."

Russia pecked me on the lips, eyes open to watch my reaction and then he walked to the door.

"Oh," added Russia at the door. "I thought I taught you to call me Ivan, da? I will have to re-educate you otherwise."

He left the room.

I didn't collapse to my knees afterward, didn't try to will the erection away (because I couldn't possibly have one, I was too awesome to be affected by Russia.)

"Damn you, Ivan," I whispered to myself and smashed my fist down on the table, splintering it in half. "I hate you so much."

Gilbird chirped.

* * *

><p>"Mattie," I breathed. "I – I can't have. I didn't."<p>

He held me tight and sniffled, trying not to cry. "You remembered."

"I'm a monster. I –" I think I was shaking. Monsters don't have the right to shake.

_I dragged him by his hair and his cry sounded so nice to my ears._

"It's okay Alfred, shh."

My head was going back and forth and Mattie just tried to calm me down, which was stupid because he was the one that should be upset, not me.

"You're not a monster."

"I am, I am, how could I have done that to you?"

"I'm sorry I made you remember this."

"Alfred," came Arthur's astonished voice and I glanced up to see him get off his seat and kneel before me. He was looking at me the way he did when I was a child and had gotten hurt. But there was hesitation, wariness, disbelief and fear that hadn't been there when I was a child.

"Arthur?"

He reached out, with a hand that had reached out to me in years and swiped at something wet on my cheek.

"You're crying."

I blinked and looked down at how his finger glistened with water.

"Oh, so I am."

Canada hugged me tighter and Arthur just seemed to be confused and torn as to what to do.

"Sorry," I added, trying to ignore the _'monster, you're a monster,'_ in my head and Arthur turned red. Canada's grip on me tightened, but he took in a deep breath and pulled back, letting go.

"Matthew?" I asked and my voice was all unsure and not like me at all. But I didn't want him to leave, I was scared, what if he didn't come back? Maybe he was just pretending to love me all this time, when in fact he hated me? Which he should. Maybe he was going to kill me, now that I was fully aware and knowing? Maybe he wanted me to know that I deserved to die.

"We have to get back to the meeting Arthur," Canada responded and England nodded, rocking back unsurely to the balls of his feet.

One tiny glance at me, at the tears on my cheeks and he glanced away, pulling at his tie.

"Are you alright to go back Alfred?"

I brushed a shaking hand through my hair and tried not to think. Canada, Matthew, my Mattie, he wouldn't do that. He loved me, even though I forgot him and burnt his Capital down and he got hit when people thought he was me. He loved me, even though I was a bad brother, even though I'd (nearly) raped him. I'd touched him, I'd forced him to like it. I liked it.

_Blood on the walls. I'd strip him down and make him lick it off._

"Yeah, I'll be fine, just give me a moment."

Arthur nodded and stood up, holding out his hand to Canada who took it gratefully. I couldn't look at Matthew right now. England walked Canada to the door and sent him out. I thought he would follow but, after some hesitation, he returned to my side.

A hand was atop my head, just there, doing nothing but being steady and warm.

"It was war, we all do things we regret in war," Iggy tried to comfort me but we never spoke of this subject so I could hear the pain he tried to mask in his voice.

"You made me do it," I said and glared up at him, revelling in the shock that flashed in his eyes before they narrowed and the hand in my hair tightened.

"You ungrateful –"

"No," I corrected, "I didn't mean that. That, that wasn't me saying that. I'm – those are old feelings Iggy, I didn't mean it."

_But it was his fault, all his fault. Wasn't it?_

Arthur was still angry but his grip loosened and he sighed.

"I don't know what is going on with you Alfred, but, I, I see that I shouldn't take what you say to heart. Not that I do."

I laughed, a weaker version, but it was still a chuckle and it was actually real.

"Yeah Iggy, sure you don't."

_Don't Al. Please._

_Say my name brother._

_Let's play a little game._

Arthur lifted his hand and his brows were furrowed all over again.

"Well since you are fine, let's return to the meeting shall we?"

I whined but got to my feet. "But Iggy! It's so borrrriinnngggg."

England threw back an insult and I just kept joking, if only to make him feel better. But Arthur, even though he'd fought me and not understood my need for independence, he still got me better than any other Nations (apart from Canada and maybe that Communist prick Russia – not that he knew me, with all his Communism and stuff.)

So he gave me an awkward pat on the back, (still blushing, and aww, the old man actually sort of, maybe, looked cute) then shot off for the meeting room. I caught up and thought that maybe I should tell him were his tea set was.

On second thought, nah, too much effort.

_I'll get you back for this._

_Sure you will._

I walked up to the door, the door I'd run out of not so long ago and I really wished I didn't have to go inside. I hesitated, which is not what a hero should do, took off Texas, cleaned him up a bit and made sure there were no tear tracks left on my cheeks. My eyes were a bit red but there was nothing I could do to change that.

I'd just say Canada's weed had made my eyes water.

I could almost picture the 'Marijuana is not LEGAL in my country America!' but we all knew what Matthew did on his weekends, after he finished all his work.

Matthew was a very organised, responsible druggie. I'd seen him high once, and only once and I would never let him live it down. I don't smoke weed my ass, what a liar (though I'd actually believed him before catching him red-handed.) Arthur was very concerned, he thought Matthew had issues from France (he did call the man Papa after all – obvious issues.)

I rocked back and forward on my feet and hated what I was doing. Weak. So weak. America wasn't weak. America didn't apologise. America was always right. Right?

A dark aura made me shiver. I knew that feeling.

I spun and eyed Russia off warily.

"Why so nervous, Amerika? You act like we still in Cold War. We moved on from dat, da?"

I crossed my arms. "Only because I was winning."

"Whatever you say Amerika. You live in your fantasy. We move on from dat, da? You no bring it up now, da? We all know the truth." He let one hand fall on my shoulder and I didn't like him that close. There were multiple ways he could hurt me from this position. Not that he could. Because I was totally stronger.

"I – oh, shut up you Commie," was all I said but I was rubbing my eyes again and the hand on my shoulder squeezed. Not enough to hurt, oddly enough.

I glanced up at Russia in confusion and he was staring at me funny.

"You will get through dis Amerika. But, if need," he almost seemed to hesitate, and that child-like countenance was gone. "You come to Russia, da? Russia knows about bad memories, Russia give you vodka. Vodka make everything good again."

My mouth worked uselessly and Russia smiled brightly, clasping his hands together, and skipped into the meeting room, leaving the door open for all the others inside to stare at me.

I gaped after Russia.

"Wha - what the hell Russia?"

And, after everyone inside stared at me, I entered the room.

* * *

><p>Well! This is our first change of POV! (Isn't it? I'm pretty sure it is *is too lazy to go and check*) Seriously, I've never really thought about RussiaPrussia, cause I read a really bad version of it that scarred me (not for life obviously, I fixed myself up! Yay!) But when I wrote this, I just seriously had the urge to go off and write a whole Russia/Prussia fic.

Funny thing is Prussia popped in just like he popped up at the meeting. Hm, he's like Canada. Sneaky, ninja Nations, deciding to barge their way into my story. Hmph, I'm glad they did. I couldn't have turned Canada away anyway, he might have cried! *Gives Canada my stash of maple syrup*

Russia! Yay! I love all the Hetalia characters but Russia always makes me smile. With joy. And lust. And with images of him naked in my head. (Gets photo's off Kiku)

Russia's just lonely guys! Seriously! He just wanted a family, he wanted everyone 'to become one with Mother Russia.' Read the manga, there's this bit with him crying, made me bawl my eyes out. *Sobs* And I had to bring the 'Berlin Wall' comment up again. Hehehe.

America's trying to deal with everything (he cried, how cute, Artie tried to console him.)

And note: You must all read Russia's speech with a Russian accent in your head. Say it out loud if it helps. Because Russia speaking with his Russian accent is *shivers* to delightful for words. Oh, and the beginning -* Russia da!-* bit must also be read like Russia is singing it to you.

Thank you to my reviewers! *Throws cookies out at you all*


	6. I'm a Little Miss ray of Sunshine

**I'm a Little Miss ray of Sunshine except I don't shine that bright.**

-*My little sunflower wilt, my little sunflower dies, but that's kay, kay? Cause you'll always be mine*-

* * *

><p>Sometimes when I put England to bed after he'd spent too many hours at the pub, bringing the blankets right up to his chin, he'd cry.<p>

He'd cry about the War and how Alfred left him. He'd switch between calling him America in rage and crying for the little boy who fought for his independence.

A drunk Arthur got depressed and though everyone had only seen him whine and rage, I was the one who picked up the pieces when he broke down. I suppose it was nice that he could do that with me. Papa had had his fair share of nights over my house, helping me clean up after the drunken man (Arthur didn't take that too well the next morning, but they connected on a level that the rest of us never could.) So it was all fine and dandy, except Arthur would touch my face and see America. He was too drunk not to and in the moments when he recognised who I was, he apologised so much that I couldn't hold it against him.

Arthur was in-love with my brother and he didn't even know it.

He, Arthur, sat beside me in the conference, watching the door open and Alfred stare after Russia in shock? Rage? Fear/Want? Those two had a … unique relationship.

The Cold War, simply the loathing and sexual tension between the two.

No one saw Arthur on Independence Day.

I always remembered. I saw everything.

I'm sorry; my mind changes memories as fast as Alfred swaps lanes on a highway. Sometimes, I. I was my brother's twin. People didn't realise that often. They mistook me for him but that was only appearance. We were different, but the same. Inside, outside.

Sorry. Philosophical thoughts made my head hurt.

America steeled himself to walk in and the rest of the room was silent. I reached out, hesitant but I steeled myself too and I grasped England's hand. He jumped, looked at me, wavered between where he thought I was, before settling.

I always went to Alfred's party. I couldn't not go. But I made an appearance, smiled, congratulated him and then slinked off once he was distracted by a game of darts with Australia.

Australia always beat him. And if he was close to losing, then Stephen's Koala always made sure Alfred lost.

I went to that spot where England had given up America and I usually found England lying down, face towards the sky and bottles littered around him.

He was never sober by the time I got there and he never asked how he got home. I think he knew it was me but I didn't say anything. Was it my place? It might be. But I waited.

I waited.

I wait.

I squeezed Arthur's hand and he squeezed mine back, letting himself lean on me in this moment. It hardly ever happened when he wasn't drunk. It had rarely happened even in war.

Russia took his seat and it wasn't on top of me today.

His sharp eyes shot over to me and I felt nerves tingle my body. He smiled and pretended to go back to not noticing.

Prussia – Gilbert and Francis never forgot me. I don't think Russia did either. I think he just pretended not to. Acting. A lie.

Alfred loved me. He didn't mean to forget.

I knew how to lie. I knew how to act.

Wait, waiting. I've always waited. I was patient. I had to be. I would get my dues. My economy was one of the best in the world.

I loved my brother, truly, I did.

He entered the room, walked up to the podium, swallowed once and continued on the meeting like nothing had happened. Prussia was glaring at him from his spot beside Germany, but he did nothing and Alfred didn't look at him.

He passed the stage onto Romano, who had been next in line to speak before the, the incident. Romano stood, Spain smiled, trailing his hand down the Italian's backside and both Romano and I went red. No one noticed me, so it didn't matter. Even with my time with Francis, I still got flustered around such physical affection.

Romano screeched, smacked Spain upside the head and stalked up to the podium. Spain sighed happily and breathed something about tomatoes.

I lied; Alfred did notice I left the party. Just like he noticed that England never attended. I think it was his way, the only way he knew how, of making sure that his Artie, his Iggy was okay.

England was mine too. Wasn't he? He – he cared for me. We were friends.

Alfred loved me. Really, he did. I think. You wouldn't do that to someone if you didn't _feel _for them, right?

Alfred nodded, walked down to sit beside me and England let go of my hand. That was okay, he was fine.

He was staring at the wall.

I looked at Alfred and he was doodling on his sheet, little pictures of robots, but I could see from the way his leg jumped that he was nervous, that he was aware of everyone's eyes on him.

Alfred was America and America had grown into a strong Nation. He would be fine.

I would be fine.

Kumatera was a heavy weight on my feet, warm, comfortable, just _there._

I loved my brother. He'd nearly raped me.

It wasn't him. It was.

I loved my brother. He made me feel good; he touched me more than anyone else ever had.

It was him. I wanted it.

Russia smiled at me. England didn't speak.

And Alfred, Alfred drew a picture of a bleeding sunflower. His smile was funny.

I didn't say anything.

* * *

><p>Canada placed his hand on mine, steady, holding.<p>

He was such a good boy. He never betrayed me; he never turned his back on me.

I forgot him sometimes and I felt bloody _terrible _about it but he was always there for me. We had a wonderful trade, our economies thrived together.

I had been alive a long time though, I had been aware that Canada wanted Independence too. But he was patient and he waited and by the time I had blinked he was his own Nation and I didn't know how it had happened. I'd sworn I would keep my eyes on him. I wouldn't let him leave me like America had. I'd said yes. I didn't want a war with him.

America was an idiot.

A dangerous idiot, but Canada was a different sort of dangerous.

Germany would still shake sometimes and I hadn't quite moved on from the bombings to feel bad for him. It was his boss, all us Nations understood that (now), but you can say no.

You cannot raise a hand to your boss, but you can refuse his orders. Even if your people love him. We are influenced by our people but we _can _ignore them.

If it was the type of boss like Hitler was, then you would be tortured and kept shackled until you cooperated. He would have hurt your friends. Hitler would have tortured Italy in front of Germany I think.

But I would have done it. I woud have said no. I had done it before.

I fought against Charles the Second. I fought often.

Many of my leaders had been corrupt, hadn't done what was best for their people. But some were good, some deserved my praise.

Mary the First, she stopped my war with France, she, she helped us reconnect with the Spanish.

These things did not last for long but peace is something beautiful.

Canada squeezed. Matthew, Mattie, squeezed my hand and Alfred sat down. I stared straight ahead, I couldn't look at him and though I was thankful to Matthew, I didn't need him to hold my hand right now.

What was wrong with the idiot boy? I didn't know. He wouldn't tell me. He'd yelled at me (again, no respect honestly) but I think it was him being defensive. I don't know, I don't understand America half the time. He's like a child and an adult all mixed in one with an overweight persons hunger.

He could be petty and vindictive but he wanted to be the hero. It was a complex of his.

I still couldn't believe what he'd said to Prussia. The fairies had all gasped too, and I wanted some time alone to speak to them without anyone interfering but France had dragged me to that lunch and hadn't let me leave.

Something odd was happening with America; he said he wasn't being himself. He had to be sick or something because America … Alfred, he didn't bring up the, _that _time. We didn't talk about it. Not often.

I didn't like thinking about it. Not because I lost (which I didn't, I chose to tactfully withdraw because of extenuating circumstances) but because it was, America was, I felt – this is what France called my inability to express my feelings. Well at least I didn't go around jumping in everyone's bed because of _l'amour._

Stupid France. Stupid America.

He was an idiot. Alfred was idiot. You can't talk about these things with an idiot and I didn't _want _to talk about these things with an idiot. He'd called my knitting needles, Knitting _sticks. _Sticks. Sticks for goodness sakes!

Honestly, you try to bring a child up right and look where it gets you. They butcher your language, throw all your tea in the ocean in some misguided rebellion and then they call your knitting needles, knitting sticks.

Canada said that Alfred had nearly raped him. He – he couldn't have. This was _Alfred _we were talking about? The 'I'm-the-hero' Alfred, the obsessed with Broadway and baseball, basketball, I'm-in-love-with-Aliens-and-don't-have-any-hidden-in-that-place-called-Area-51-which-totally-doesn't-exist-but-hey-have-you-met-Tony?' Alfred. If, if he done that to his own brother, then, well, they had the longest undefended border. Wouldn't have Canada wanted to protect himself?

When would this have happened? Why hadn't I known? I knew that I forgot Matthew sometimes but I c-cared for him. I honestly did, I swear on the Queen. Matthew said he wouldn't let Alfred 'go back to that.' This means it had happened before.

The only time I could remember was Alfred during the Cold War, because he had been paranoid and, quite frankly, saying hateful or in a foul mood wouldn't really quite cover what Alfred was like during that time.

And I'd only seen him once during the Civil War. It, it hadn't been nice. But then again, these things never were. I had no idea how France maintained his sanity (he didn't obviously, the fool liked to parade around in nothing but a rose) or the other Nations either. I'd nearly lost my mind on many occasions because of rebellions and such.

My people had their principles. All good Englishmen did.

It had been America's first Civil War and I … I sided with the other side. I, Canada and I. Even though slavery wasn't right.

I think it hurt him more _because _it was Canada and I. But I was so angry, and. Well. The British Empire does not regret things, it does what it has to in the moment and I made my decisions and I stand by them.

He was different in the, the revolution. Angry, spiteful, yes, but, I don't know. Something else was there. I didn't see him often then, I didn't want to. I still hoped for him to give up fighting and realise his place beside me. I didn't want to hurt my little brother but he wasn't listening.

Little brother, I do not know if that is the correct terminology anymore. No matter. Alfred was different in wars. We all were, I guess it was just a change from his happy-go-lucky, hero nature. Just like seeing Canada in rage was odd. Or making him seeing Alfred cry.

I was surrounded by childish idiots.

I didn't know what to do. Should I confront Alfred again (which had a ninety-nine percent chance in ending with me yelling at him, obviously because he was silly, irresponsible git) or should I ask Canada?

I had been an Empire, I'd lived thousands of years. I'd survived so many Wars, with France, with those damn Europeans, with America. I was Brittania. I was not a child who didn't know what to do, neither was I a buffoon who couldn't control his emotions.

I was England. I would be strong.

I could feel France's eyes on me, right beside me, so close, so I pulled my hand away from Matthew's and kept staring at the wall. France didn't stop, I could feel his burning gaze and I shot my face around to glare back at him. He wasn't glaring at me though. His eyebrows were downward, in concern.

Like when I had been a child.

I glared at France, trying to get that expression on his face to change, maybe to a perverted smile, maybe to a glare right back at me but his lips only turned down and his eyes were saying something.

'What's wrong?'

I bit my lip and fortunately a tiny fairy decided to sit in my lap. I regarded her fondly and pat her wings.

One quick glance up. 'Arthur, don't look away from me,' he was saying now. I could feel the heat emanating off of him and I wanted to throw a cup of steaming tea at his face. Maybe I would shove a scone down his throat and choke him though the taste of my beautiful cooking would only send him to heaven.

'It's none of your business.'

'You are my business,' he shot back and I scowled.

I didn't like it when he did that, I didn't like that we could read each other's faces, speak without speaking. But I suppose when you spend thousands of years fighting with another person, you tend to get to know everything about them.

France was worried, he was watching me like he'd done after Alfred had … after the rebellion.

Something was wrong with my … with America. He was doing things that he wouldn't usually do. But I'd seen him do worse.

I was only worried what had caused this and how far it would go.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw America doodling on his pad but I couldn't see exactly what. France was still watching me and I wished I had something to knit, something to distract me.

I didn't like it. I didn't like any of this. It had that feeling, that feeling I had before the 100 years' War with France, with the War with Scotland, Wales, Ireland (my brother's fault entirely), that feeling I had before World War 1 and again with World War 2. Things were going to get worse and there wasn't really anything I could do to stop it.

France shifted in his chair and bumped his foot into mine, resting it there.

I patted the fairy and stared at the wall.

And my cheeks weren't red at all.

* * *

><p>The meeting finished for the day and everyone started to head back to the hotel. I kept drawing and pretended that I didn't notice the meeting had ended. It wasn't like I scared or anything.<p>

Ahaha.

Heroes don't get scared.

I'd done something to Matthew. Wait, what was it?

Oh, I'd nearly raped him. And I'd almost forgot it again. How was that possible? I'd, I'd done those, those _things. _Things I wanted to do again. But that wasn't right. He was my brother. I loved him.

Lust.

The pen snapped in half.

"Crap." Ink was spilt all over my hand and leaking onto the page, drowning the sunflower.

I stared at my drawings. Why had I drawn a sunflower? That was Russia's symbol. I hated sunflowers, even though they were so pretty and yellow. Stupid Russia ruined them with all his communism.

"America?"

I glanced up, not startled at all, because I totally heard him coming. Yeah, cause I'm awesome like that.

"Iggy?"

He threw another teabag at my face. I caught it, with my super reflexes.

"My name is England you disrespectful brat."

"What the hell Iggy? Do you carry teabags around with you?"

England stuck his nose in the air and folded his arms.

"One can't trust any place but England to have tea. Especially not here, since you seem obsessed with having your disgusting burnt seed drink."

I dropped the teabag on the table, next to my paper which was a splotchy mess.

"It's called coffee Iggy. You're just jealous that you didn't invent it."

England scowled and walked around to pick up his teabag. "You sound like South Korea. And you didn't invent it. Coffee beans were around long before you decided to burn them."

England's wrist was in front of my face and I grabbed it.

"Let go of me you idiot," England shouted but I yanked, pushed my chair back and let him land in my lap.

England's face went red and he shoved his free hand against my face.

I licked all the way up it and he screeched and pulled back.

"That's disgusting! What are you doing? Let go of me." But I didn't let go. I reached up and grasped the back of his neck, drawing our faces together.

"A-America?"

He was a nice, heavy weight on my thighs. But he tried to get out of my grip, not able to look me in the eyes.

"Artie~ Stop fighting," I sang cheerfully.

"G-get off!" I brushed my fingers over his eyebrows and smiled as he shuddered. "D-don't do that, you, stupid America," he breathed.

"I'll do what I want, little Artie. After all, you can't stop me."

He swore and tried to elbow me again but I stood with him on my lap and slammed him against the table. It cracked but didn't break apart.

"America," Artie gasped, not from the pain but probably because my hands were around his throat.

"No," I hissed. "Say my name Artie. Say it."

"A-America, stop it."

I bent down and kissed his eyebrows, laughing delightedly when he shook and moaned.

"I don't think I will. I want to do this and your body tells me you want it to." Wait, wasn't that what rapists said to console themselves, to rationalize? Hm, no. He wanted it.

I licked my lips and tightened my grip on Arthur's throat. His face was going red, quite pretty actually and his body started to buck up against mine, his hands trying to pry mine off.

The lack of oxygen was ruining his reactions. At least, I thought so until he tried to take a swing at me.

I put both wrists into one hand and held it above him, stretching his body out and feeling his neck lengthen under my other hand.

"You used to be so big Artie, but now you can't stop me. You couldn't even stop me if I tore off your clothes and introduced myself to all your little cities." I nipped his bottom lip and he was looking at me with such wide, shocked eyes. He tried to say something but just mouthed the words.

I cocked my head. "Say my name Artie."

"A-Alf-fred. P-please."

"Since you asked so nicely."

I let go off his neck and he breathed in a deep gasp.

Once he regained his breath his eyes narrowed but I could see he was putting the anger on. He was scared.

_Good. Be scared. You'll obey me so much easier then. Although I'd have fun breaking you._

"What the hell Alfred? How dare you do this to me?"

I leant so close to him, shoving his legs to either side so I could rest between his thighs. He gasped and bucked but that just made a shuddered breath leave my lips.

"Oh, do that again Artie. Please?"

"Stop this now. I am your elder. Show some respect!" He'd turned his head to the side, cheeks flushed, so it sort of ruined his angry appearance. I chuckled and gave his neck a little kiss.

"Didn't you say that during the War Artie? I didn't listen then. I won't listen now."

Arthur tried to kick me but I could see the tears at the corners of his eyes. Looks like I'd hit a sore spot.

"Aww, don't get upset. This is your fault. You made me fight you, but now it's my turn to be the stronger one." I hummed, trailing my hand down his neck and his wrists were so small and brittle in my grasp.

"Where's all that Great Britannia spirit Artie? Are you giving up so easily?" I baited purposefully, not liking how he refused to look at me.

Hook, line and sinker.

His head shot around and the tips of his ears were red with rage.

"You naïve little whelp! I have been alive longer than you have, don't you dare insult me. I will beat you black and blue for this insolence. I raised you, you owe me everything."

I pressed our foreheads together, eyelashes touching, but he didn't draw back. "I owe you nothing."

He stared back at me with anger and rebellion.

"Feeling a little rebellious Artie? Feel like I'm taking you for granted?" Arthur lifted his wrists and it actually took some effort for me to slam them back down. I pressed down and felt his little England touch against Florida.

"Get off of me," he grated out but I rolled my hips and the last word turned into a breathy moan.

"I'm the one in charge here, my little England, _my little Artie._ You're all mine," I breathed against his lips, nudging at his nose. He was shaking and the tears were still there. I giggled.

"I'd say don't cry but you look so cute when you do. Just like that day when you said you couldn't shoot me. You looked so defeated." A tear fell and he tried to turn away but I wouldn't let him. "I wanted to throw you to the ground and fuck you right then and there. Maybe in front of everyone, who knows? As long as everyone knows your mine. That you've always been mine. Mine to have and to break, to keep chained in my bed beside Mattie, to fuck you, to show you how much I _love _you_._"

I touched our lips together and Arthur bit me.

"Ahaha. Feisty little Britannia."

"You little shit, how dare you bring that up. I should've shot you that day and got rid of your irritating presence."

I licked my lips, tasting the blood and saw there was a droplet on Arthur's as well.

"Why didn't you by the way? I've always wondered."

I sucked at his lip, getting the blood off and –

"England?" I asked, watching the squirming Nation under me cry.

What was I doing on top of him? And why the hell was he crying?

* * *

><p>Insert Arthur and a Teabag!<p>

Again. Seriously, he carries them around everywhere … hidden on his body. Let's play a game of who can find the most teabags! Ahahahaha.

Yeah.

So poor Arthur is crying I couldn't help it, I've seen too many pictures of him as the Uke, it's affected my thinking way too much. Crying when no one eats his scones, crying when he's drunk, crying when people say he's crazy for seeing Unicorns and stuff. "You're just not pure enough!" Don't worry, he's still tough. I'll have to show that … somewhere.

I hope I did America okay here, I still want him creepy but I didn't want him too mean to Artie. Though he said some harsh things, but I tried to smooth it down with the 'love' line. I hate them being mean to each other. Makes me sad. Of course I'm going to do the Independence War so…damnit.

Canada! He's more like his brother than you thought! And he hasn't quite dealt with what America did anyway. He compartmentalised it and didn't think about it. Hm, and he said Alfred didn't deal with things? Another thing that shows that they really are brothers.

Self denial. It's completely healthy.

And as always. Thank you for the reviews.

**Oh my gosh, I realised I updated this when I still didin't know the other word for knitting sticks. Dies. I just had bracket [knitting what? what are they called?] SORRY TO ANYONE THAT READ THAT BIT! How embarrassing.


	7. The United States of Alfred

**United States of Alfred**

-*Alfred's got you damsel, cause the heroes got to save the girl, and sing a-ring-a-round-a-rosie while he tears apart your world*-

* * *

><p>"Iggy?" He was crying, tears overfilling his beautiful green eyes and trailing down his cheeks. I let go – why was I holding his wrists? And wiped frantically at the tears. "Artie … I'm, don't, what happened? Don't cry."<p>

Arthur blinked and drew his (now free) hands up to cover his face.

"I'm not crying you stupid American!"

"Sssh, ssh." What the hell? What was I supposed to do? Okay, hero; check, crying man; check. Okay. Change crying man to damsel in distress. Add fluttery eyes and denial of need for help when damsel really does need help.

Situation figured out.

Need gun.

I leant forward and kissed the tears off, ignoring Arthur's half-hearted struggles.

"Why did you say that? Did you truly mean it?"

"I – what did I –." I blinked, because the light was hurting behind my eyes. My hands rested in Arthur's hair though I didn't know I'd been stroking it.

I'd just said – I'd.

"At-at one point I did Artie, but not anymore. I, I was just so angry at you then cause you didn't see me as anything other than a child. You wouldn't let me go," I said, because I remembered that I'd said something, been saying something. It was bad.

_"You used to be so big Artie, but now you can't stop me. You couldn't even stop me if I tore off your clothes and introduced myself to all your little cities." _

Oh. That's what it was.

"Dad-"

Arthur jolted. "Don't call me that," but his voice was pleading and thick. "I'm not your father, if I was than you wouldn't have left me."

My heart nearly broke and a part of me wished that I could be like I was during the second World War. That I could be full of rage and anger and not this odd pain in my chest that came with seeing Arthur crying.

I hardly ever called him Dad because our relationship had been so strained that the name couldn't leave my lips and well, he wasn't actually my dad. Just like he was and he wasn't my brother, or my friend or someone I loved. Our relationship was a little messed up and undefined but it was special.

'Special relationship,' for both America and Alfred.

"Oh Artie, I wasn't going to leave you." I smiled and he wasn't looking at me, his chin was down and I knew how much it irked his British pride for him to tear up in front of me. The last time had been – no, back to consoling the damsel.

Hm, I'd have to see Artie in a dress one day; I'd talk to France or Kiku about the possibilities.

"I would have stayed by you even after I became my own Nation. But you wouldn't let me have my Independence."

Arthur's hands curled up to his chest and I slid my hands down to his shoulders. "Why did you need it? Why couldn't you just be happy with me?" He asked and he'd asked this before, once, when he'd been so blind drunk that Canada would usually be the one taking him home. But he'd been trying to get Francis off of him so I'd been left to deal with the drunkard.

"_You left me. Everyone's always leaving me."_

"Artie, you know why."

_"Didn't you say that during the War Artie? I didn't listen then. I won't listen now."_

_"Aww, don't get upset. This is your fault. You made me fight you, but now it's my turn to be the stronger one." _

I rested my chin on the top of his head and I could remember when it was me that would look up, look up to the tall, angry British Empire.

"I was just trying to protect my people. I didn't mean to tax you so heavily, but, but I needed to."

I could say a lot of things to that but I bent down and kissed more of his tears away, though he tried to keep me away. I placed two kisses over his eyelids and when I moved away he had opened shining green eyes.

"It's over and done with now Arthur. Can't we just move on? We've come so far. I'm not a little colony anymore. I'm a Nation now. We can help each other."

My words didn't really match my thoughts because England, all bleary-eyed and red-cheeked had me nearly half-hard in my pants. I wanted to throw him down on the floor, yank off his pants and have him claw through my shirt and line my back with scratches.

_"Where's all that Great Britannia spirit Artie? Are you giving up so easily?" _

I swallowed and England's arm was between us.

I was close; my body was encircling him, trapping him. _Prey._

_"Feeling a little rebellious Artie? Feel like I'm taking you for granted?" _

England pushed me off and I had to let him because I wasn't quite sure what I would do. I wasn't this person. I – I didn't do these things.

_He'd look so pretty underneath me, back arched and mouth open as he screams. Only I could make Arthur look like that, feel like that. He was mine. Only mine._

Heroes don't think these things.

"Why …" I began and I wanted to stop myself, but not saying what I thought had never been a trait of mine. "Why did you say 'There's no point?"

I licked my lips and tasted the salt of England's tears, watching as he scrubbed at his face with the cuff of his sleeve. His furrowed his brows (earthquakes, everywhere I swear, maybe he was the reason everyone else was experiencing it? Like that sheep place near Stephen? There was a Z in there somewhere … and lots of sheep) and straightened his posture, still unable to look me in the eye.

And I have nice eyes, so it must've been hard for him not to.

"Why are you asking now? It has been years."

Cause I felt like it? Honestly, why wouldn't I ask? It was like Iggy was searching for some deeper meaning to it. It just felt right and it hadn't before.

"Because I want to know and you never told me."

"I never wanted to."

I wanted to whine and prod at Arthur with a stick but he was a little red and puffy under the eyes and he kept fidgeting with his outfit. It made me remember why he was crying and I didn't really want to remember that right now so I couldn't be an ass. Not that I would be an ass, because he should just tell me.

As a matter of fact, he was being the ass for not telling me. Which is unawesome and so totally why I was the hero and he was the damsel. I'd have to call him Miss Damsel from now on. Ahaha.

"I deserve to know." There, that was quite calm but heroically demanding at the same time. Like an order. You tell me, because I am me and that is why you will say what I want to know, because I'm me, I'm the United States of Alfred.

That's with Capitals.

I really needed a gun. I could've dramatically cocked it and everything.

"You don't deserve anything! I don't owe you anything. You left me, you ruined our relationship."

And there went my calm mood. It was his fault, not mine. I'd went through a lot of crap to get free of him and he'd laughed in my face. Laughed in my face until the war drained on him and he got bitter and bitter and hell, I was feeling a little bitter (and hurt) too.

"I never would've been happy if you didn't let me go. You ruined it. We would've been fine if you had cared more for me than what I could do for you as a colony."

"Britannia fork," he screamed and threw a random fork at me (seriously, it's like he has a whole kitchen attached to his body – not that he could cook anything edible with it.) "Is that what you think it was? Did you think that's why I refused you independence?"

I threw the fork on the ground, its metal rang sharp in the air and now Arthur and I were yelling at each other, he's eyes still red and my mouth plump from kissing him.

"What other reason is there?"

"You idiot! You naïve fool." He pushed at me and I pushed him back. "You don't deserve to know. I won't tell you."

I was getting angry again.

_Mine. Make him mine._

"You're wrong Arthur. If there was another reason I deserve to know." I did. It had been years, decades, I deserved to know. _I would make him tell me._ "Though there wasn't. There couldn't have been. You're lying to save face because the truth makes you look like the empire you _used _to be."

"And what's that?" His gaze was hard and his fists clenched. I wanted to throw him on the ground and either beat him unconscious or fuck him raw. Who knows, maybe both, maybe not in that order.

Heroes shouldn't think this but I didn't feel the emotion behind that thought. I was a hero, right? So why didn't I care about anything but breaking Arthur right now?

"Cruel and selfish and _greedy_."

Arthur's jaw clenched and eyes were shining emeralds. "Shut up! You know nothing America. You've never had you're citizens starve before. You haven't gone through all the wars I have. I needed those supplies to keep my land alive, to keep my people living and not merely surviving."

"Excuses, excuses."

"And you didn't care who suffered for it, did you?" I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

"They had my protection! They owed me for that, for my people dying to keep them safe."

My nostrils were flaring and I shook him again, wanting to lash out at something. I took a deep breath and said slowly, "you're lying to yourself Artie. Lying."

"And you don't lie to yourself?" He laughed. "You call yourself the hero?" He reached up, grabbed my jaw in one hand and with a tilt of his lips, he said, with intent to hurt, "let's ask Vietnam how she feels about that? Let's ask Japan if his scars have healed yet? Let's ask _Iraq _and_ Afghanistan _if you're a hero or if you just want their oil? And what about your indigenous people? Your Red Indians. How are they?"

I yanked at his hair and we were holding each other close and he was being stupid _England _all over again. The one that had refused to let me go, the one who killed my people during the Independence War and who sided with one half of my people during the Civil War. He wasn't being the older brother I'd loved and who'd rarely visited but who would sing me old tales of great warriors, recount great plays, tragedies, comedy's and who would embroide me a blanket that had unicorns and fairies all over them.

Cowboys were better anyway.

"I'm defending myself. You know there are terrorists in there. They bombed me, they started this war."

"And I've had half my land taken from me, my people invaded. You got two buildings attacked. You think that's hard?"

I wanted to throw his head against the wall and slam it until there was nothing but meat and blood dripping onto the floor.

"Don't you dare belittle what happened with the twin towers. _Don't you dare._"

I wasn't crying, and if I was, they were tears of anger. He'd broken down my door, he and Mattie and France and they'd found my body bleeding on the tiles, my rib poking out as the second plane hit and then I was trying to get out, to the towers, to save my people but I couldn't move and the bone grated on the floor and they'd held me. He'd held me as I was attacked. I'd hated him, hated them for not letting me leave but I knew they did right, even if it had taken me a while to realise that.

"Then don't you dare pretend I'm the villain. I've done my best, and my people are happy. So I have no regrets."

I threw him away.

"But Iggy, isn't that what they call a psychopath?"

England's eyes were suspiciously watery too.

"At least my people are safe and happy. I'll do whatever I have to if I can keep it that way."

I wanted to scream and rage and pick up the table and throw it somewhere. Maybe at someone, maybe not. I was furious and I didn't like what England had said. But I'd started this and I would finish it.

And I knew that I too, would do whatever it took to keep my people happy and safe. I think. If it really came down to it.

Heroes shouldn't do that. Heroes should try to help everyone.

"And that's why I left," I said and England wasn't showing any weakness, he wasn't looking away, his back was straight and in this moment it showed that he had lived for longer than I had.

But who gave a fuck about that.

"Because you would have used me and my land until my people died of starvation and everything I was and am would have dried up and died." It hurt to say it. It might have been because I believed it and it hurt that I knew he would have done that to me.

And he didn't deny it.

I was biting my lip and it started to bleed again, and both of us were still, standing in silence, shaking with things that were said and better left unsaid.

I went to leave the room, but as I passed England, he inclined his head towards me, mouth breathing air against my ear, so I paused beside him.

"Maybe I would have, maybe I would have made you weak and defenceless and kept you in my house." It sounded threatening and dark and Arthur had spoken to me like this during the Independence.

My mind ran over his words and they felt familiar.

My tongue moved in my mouth, like I'd been the one to say those words.

Weak and defenceless, kept you in my house.

I closed my eyes.

_Shackled you to the bed and make you cry out my name. Grabbed you by the hair, blood sinking into your clothes and dragged you across the state line._

_I threw you in my room, shackled you to the bed. Touched you. Shackled to the bed._

_Shackled – shackled sh-_

"_Let's play a little game, shall we?" Game. Game._

_Shackled you to the bed._

_I'd show Russia who was stronger and then he'd fall at my feet and beg and maybe while he was there I'd undo my pants and –_

_Kiku crying. Hands around his throat._

_Shackled to the bed._

_Vietnam crying and Korea tearing in half, and Kiku. Shackled, in a wheel chair. Sorry, sorry. You made me. I had to._

_Ground Zero. _

_Iraq. Kill. I don't care. I help protect your innocents, kill the Taliban. Maybe I should just shackle you to the bed and make you cry out my name. Grab you by the hair – grabbed you. Mattie._

_Ring-a-round-a-death-bed, we all pissed off Alfred, scream mercy, scream mercy, he throws us into bed._

"At least then you wouldn't have been able to leave me." Arthur said, voice level, even and the tone giving nothing away. I waited a moment but he didn't add anything else.

"I still would have tried."

I could feel the heat radiating from him and I just had to reach out to touch him.

"I know," he said softly.

There was nothing to say to that. Not now anyway. So I opened my eyes and I left the room. It wasn't the first time I'd walked away from Arthur like this but I'd hoped that it wouldn't happen again. As I closed the door behind me I thought that even sometimes I had to let go of a pipe dream.

_Mattie and Al, fought up the hill, cause Al thought he was stronger. But stupid Al …_

Well stupid Al, forgot that maybe burning down his brother's Capital wasn't so smart because now he was bleeding and clawing at the dirt as –

_Mattie and Al, fought up the hill, but poor Mattie got caught. It ended too soon, shackled in that room and Mattie was very distraught. _

Kiss it better. Lick all the blood of the door. Mattie's blood was sweeter than all that maple syrup he ate.

_America and Canada sitting in a tree, burning down your ci-ity. First comes invasion, then comes the killing, then comes a lit torch burning down your building._

* * *

><p>As I wrote England and America's fight the whole Twin Towers thing came out and I think I did their reactions right, as I see it, BUT I felt so iffy about England basically saying, well it sucked but that's nothing compared to what I've experienced. I hope no one gets offended and if you do, well, there's worse stuff out there (have you seen comedians joke about it? I'm not even American and I find it a big no-no.) I wanted to cry when that came up but it's the way their argument went and England didn't mean to downplay it but they were arguing and being stupid and America got all 'killer-mode' angry about it. So I want you all to know that these are the characters, not my, personal beliefs, so that whole oil thing in IraqAfghanistan as well. They were intentionally saying things to hurt anyway.

So! Moving on! This has only been one day, story-wise, so the next chapter will be the night after today's meeting! Ooh. America's pov should be in every chapter but I like writing others as well. And when I said this was a multi-pairing fic, I really meant it. Cause everyone's got history with each other.

Except Australia, which is my home, because we're fairly 'new.' And I don't really know or care about aboriginal history (no offence there either but I know the basic stuff I got taught in school and it doesn't really interest me, especially since the recorded history is uh, non-existent.)

The Nursery rhymes were an absolute delight to do. I love them. It's ring-a-round-a-rose, Jack and Jill and blah-blah and blah-blah, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, in case it wasn't obvious.

So bye! And thank you for all the lovely reviews

Oh and does anyone want to beta for me?


	8. This nightmare just keeps playing

**This nightmare just keeps playing but I don't think I want it to stop. Because at the end.**

**Well. **

**I'm always alone.**

-*So I say awesome cause I'm awesome and we all know it's the truth. But the voices used to call for me and now you saying they're calling for you. Well fuck that, little America, that's some shit you got going on, so leave me with this battered head and a Russia to harm*-

* * *

><p>-* 3 months before the meeting, in which Prussia runs into Russia again, much to his annoyance*-<p>

"We are da most two loneliest people, aren't we little Gilbert?"

"I'm nothing like you, I like being alone," I said, wanting to throw my mug at his face. "It's awesome because I have my awesome self to be with."

West had bloody well hurry up because I was so fucking sick of being stuck in the kitchen with this pyscho. There were too many knives around and the giant, bear-looking freak was drinking out of MY favourite cup.

The asshole.

That cup rocked ass, it had Gilbird all over it, even the one with his little top hat and coat. (Old England had made it, and even if the tea-popping addict was a stick in the mud, he sure could make Gilbird some awesome outfits.)

"You cannot lie to me Gilbert, Russia knows you, da. You wouldn't have turned to me, if you were happy being alone."

I flinched and took a giant sip of my drink (seriously, this cup was West's and his was all boring and plain and white coloured. Just eew.) And then I burnt my tongue, which was not awesome at all, and sort of ruined the taste of my hot chocolate.

I threw the mug in the sink and it made the type of loud noise that said 'You cracked me and now West is going to throw a friggin hissy fit and freeze all your cards so you can't buy anything.)

"I never turned to you. You forced yourself on me. Every time, you sick fuck. But you're right; no one would ever turn to you unless they had no choice.

"Kolkol." Russia smiled his creepy smile and stood, emptying his (my) cup out in the sink, before washing it out and placing it on the rack. I couldn't see inside the sink but Russia didn't do anything so I had a feeling West's mug was in pieces.

He was going to bitch for like, forever.

"I wondered what it would be like to kiss you, so I did and now I know." He turned and played with his scarf, cheeks pink but I couldn't tell if it was an act or real. You never knew with Russia.

He was called insane for a reason, and having lived with him, I'd add bipolar and split-personality on to that.

"I'll always know," he continued and I wanted to wipe my lips. "I feel like trying again, da." I grabbed the counter behind me and glared at him. "You understand me?"

"I don't understand you at all, you crazy pyscho, now leave me the hell alone. I'm not going to do anything with you ever again." And the counter didn't creak and the ceramic didn't turn to dust because my fingers had forced their way through to dig in and hold on for dear life.

I wasn't scared, this was my house and Germany was just in his office grabbing some stuff. I was perfectly safe and I could kick ass. There was one of my old knives in the lounge room and it would certainly look nice skewered through Russia's fat gut.

"You always try to test me, don't you Gilbert? I thought you would have learned by now, da?"

I hated the way he said my name. People I liked were meant to say my name that way, like Mattie, who was freakin awesome and made wicked ass pancakes, not Russia. Never Russia.

"I don't need to learn anything from you. You aren't the boss of me anymore."

The light was finding it hard to shine through the dark aura surrounding Russia and really, I could totally walk out right now but I was comfy, against the counter and it was my counter and my kitchen so Russia should be the one to leave.

The awesome me goes where he wants to.

"We became one, my little Gilbert." I swallowed and Russia was all up and invading my personal bubble. He never understood the meaning of personal bubble; he was like France in that way. Except for the whole violent, sadistic killer thing. "Russia wanted to become one with you and you did."

Shut up. Shut up.

"A part of you will always been submissive to me."

Never," I hissed but I may have been shaking (totally in rage, I was going to go Teutonic Knights on his ass soon) and Russia's hand was beside mine, his arm stretched out long against my chest. He was caging me in and I didn't like it.

But habit made lean back and raise my chin, baring my neck. I blinked, scowled and shoved my head back down.

Russia's eyes glinted, and he smiled, but this time teeth showed and my nostrils flared.

"You cried out to Austria sometimes." He didn't go there. "Roderich, roddy." Oh he did, the bastard did. "Hungary as well. And she would sneak up to my room and feed you when she thought I wasn't looking." I blinked, shocked that he'd known, that he hadn't stopped her.

Because he'd refused me food when I'd fought particularly hard or escaped from the house, so it didn't make sense.

"– oh yes, I knew. I always know everything that goes on in my house little Gilbert. I knew that my Toris, my beautiful Toris, distracted me on purpose so the others could help. I know everything." He leant in, and I knew that he'd heard me crying out for Ludwig as well then. Not that I cried. "_Everything. _You can't hide from me. And one time, when you could not drink as much Vodka as I, you told Russia about da voices. The voices that would not leave you alone." I couldn't remember telling him that. "I have always wondered. Where you talking about _their _voices? Did they call to you?"

I didn't want to remember them, remember the people who'd vanished and gone and whose voices were so loud in my head, screaming for attention but cajoling me to just disappear and leave the troubles of the world behind.

"But I wasn't going to let you leave me, you aren't allowed to disappear."

To rest in peace and happiness.

So I let go of the counter and our chest's hit each other.

"Back. Off."

Russia trailed a finger down my cheek and I could punch him now but I didn't want West to get all mad at me about the blood he'd have to clean off the floor. The guy spazzed out over anything dirty in the house.

Spazzing out, that made me remember something odd.

Last week, at the meeting, America said something funny to me.

He said, "the voices spoke to me once too, but I don't remember if I said yes or no. What did you do Gilbert?"

Huh. Why couldn't I remember anything after that? I touched the back of my head, fingers going somewhere without me knowing why.

I felt under my hair, touched my scalp and there was a bump. A bump like something had hit me.

A bump I didn't remember getting.

Russia was here.

"My little Gilbert~ He is a part of my big family once again."

"You don't have a family," I said and okay, it was a bit mean because we all knew that Russia didn't like being alone.

And Russia's face went flat, not mock sad or mock thinking but flat and expressionless but his eyes were as cold as his winter and I could tell I'd upset him. Though with the things little America had said during the Cold War you'd think he'd get over it.

I may have, well, felt momentarily bad, because everyone did kind of ditch him. But he was a pyscho! He forced us all to live with him. What did he expect?

I folded my arms and looked away, because I shouldn't feel bad but I didn't want to have to see his ugly mug.

"I – uh, didn't mean it, like, like that. I mean, you have your sisters and … and stuff."

"Da, but Ukraine is too busy to see me and Belarus is very scary."

"Well uh." Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Russia smiling and it was amusement. At me. "You little shit! You're pretending to be upset just to make me feel bad."

"Oh, Gilbert felt bad? Gilbert wants to cheer Russia up?" He teased.

"You – you," I was shaking in rage, so I thought 'fuck it, West'll just have to clean it' and I launched myself at the Russian nation, smashing him against the wall in my awesomely, surprising attack (though how Russia didn't expect it, I'd never know – he was antagonizing me on purpose! Pfft, then again I _was _the amazing Prussia.)

"You are a manipulative, controlling, psychotic piece of work and I _hate you."_

"But Gilbert, you think of me all the time don't you?" Russia cocked his head and my grip on collar tightened, the scarf over lapping my knuckles. "You say you hate me but we both know that you feel something else."

His arm was wrapped around my waist.

"Yeah, I want to beat the shit out of you, but that's it."

"And I do want my family back, little Gilbert. You're my family. If everyone just became one with Russia and didn't listen to stupid Amerika, then we would all be happy. Amerika was meant to become one with me too, but no worry, Russia will get him in the end."

"You can't force people to love you," I shouted and he had tried. He'd really tried.

The sucky bit is I think it sort of worked. Not on me, cause I hated the Communist, but Lithuania both feared, hated, pitied and loved Russia, and it was so easy to see. He'd been the favourite after all and Russia had cried in his arms. "And you couldn't take care of everyone. People were _dying_ Ivan, Countries were unhappy, that's why the Soviet Union fell."

I shouldn't have looked into his face, cause there was that darkness in his eyes, that lust and rage and I swallowed but didn't look away cause I was fucking Prussia and I was tough as nails and I wouldn't quake in fear.

I think America wanted to save Russia, to tear him back from the darkness, but at the same time, America was so far gone that I think he and Russia reached an understanding in those years. Two people so full of hate and rage and _lust_, needing to dominate, to be in charge but so ready to destroy everyone in their path to do so.

Two beings completely and utterly firm that they were right and the other was wrong and absolutely unhinged.

Two beings that went completely bonkers. And the rest of us were just stuck in between.

Even though I'd been made to fight, a creation to win wars, just like Roddy, well, I'd never agreed with what Hitler wanted bruder to do, I hadn't wanted another war. But he'd asked and I wouldn't leave my bruder alone. So I fought and the war happened.

And I think that what America did to Japan, well, it fucked him up bad. So maybe it was our fault that the Cold War happened, you know, in a round-a-bout sort of way.

"You –" I began, but I didn't really know what I was going to say.

"You bring up these bad memories but it doesn't matter. I will make you love me. We will be a big family." It wouldn't work, he'd been forced to give up once, you'd think he'd learn.

"_I will not be alone,_" Ivan hissed.

Russia moved forward and I was warm but cold and his scarf was against my neck. I'd ripped it once.

I wouldn't ever touch his scarf again, it was the only time I'd ever apologized to him. Totally a tactical manoeuvre and not because he was freaking out and I actually felt bad.

Then he got the water pipe out so the apologizing was smart.

Russia's cold nose touched mine.

"Call me Ivan again little Gilbert, it sounds so sweet coming off of your lips."

And West walked back in.

Fortunately for me (not Ivan) he was a holding a gun.

Fina-fucking-ly.

* * *

><p>-*Back to the main story, with which today's meeting is over and little Italy is passed out on Germany's bed (after many hours of secretly plotting to take over the world via pasta addiction)*-<p>

"Bruder, you should rest."

"Yeah, maybe I'll snuggle up to little Ita-chan and you can join too."

Germany went red in the face and fidgeted, all uncomfortable and the like even though I'd seen his porn before. And German's had some messed up porn. Prussia's stuff was – had been – way more awesome and a few of my people's kids still brought out some wicked stuff too.

Not that I needed porn because I had people throwing themselves at me all the time. Anyway, the real stuff is much better than that mechanical, faked crap anyway.

"I have work to do, I do not need the bed." Germany frowned. "And you will keep your hands of Feliciano because he is much too innocent to be corrupted by you."

I stalked over to him, laughing and had to stretch up to reach him (I could still remember when the little brat was a half my size and I could throw him over my shoulder.)

"Ah West, come to bed, you can work tomorrow, you know you wanna wrap your hands around little Ita's naked body."

"Bruder you have your own bed."

"So does Ita-chan but he seems to be in yours. More people is better I always say."

Cue blush.

"Bruder …"

I ruffled his hair. "Kesesese."

He swatted my hand away, coughed and yet he was still staring at me like I was going to break apart, he was looking at me with those eyes that were concerned but didn't know what to do and I was fucking Gilbert and it wasn't the Berlin Wall going up all over again so I would be fine.

Honestly, I was the bigger brother, the little brat was trying to take over my job of worrying. Though these days I only had to worry about Luddy working himself too hard, or exploding into a sexual rage because of his repressed desires for Feliciano.

The man's head would pop off one day and I'd have to take time away from my precious hours of awesomeness to order someone else to screw his head back on, or whatever. There was no way I was doing it myself.

"Are -," Luddy began, before swallowing and glancing away. "You should get some rest." Which really meant 'are you okay? I wanna ask but I'm too much of an emotional retard to do so.'

"I'm fine, geez, let it go. I'm way too awesome to be brought down by anything."

"You know … that I am …. Always here for you, Bruder," Luddy somehow got out and I stared at Italy lying all snug in his bed and really, they should just fuck already.

"Mein Gott, I know already. You're freaking out to much, the Wars over, Russia's a pansy, and I told you, I'm fucking awesome. Kay?" Gilbird chirped and I went to turn to go and laugh at him cause I'd filled up the sink and he was having fun playing in it.

"I do not like it when you lie to me Bruder." I stopped mid-turn. "I usually say nothing but you should not speak of these things as if they meant nothing."

He sounded fucking weak and my brother wasn't weak. He was tall and blonde and had nearly taken over the world and maybe it wasn't quite the greatest idea (obviously because Hitler had been all, we don't need you Prussia, how about we dissolve you but it wasn't official so I stuck around for a little longer and then I actually survived my dissolution – cause my people rocked – and then stupid Russia came in and fucked up like fifty years of my life) but mein bruder was freaking tough, okay.

"The awesome me has no need to lie, because my words should be taken like God's, cause I'm like a God and the War is over and Russia is a freaking pansy and I can kick his ass now, so I'm going to go play with Gilbird, so West, go work or do some other boring shit that you do."

I stormed off, well, I went to, all dramatic and the shit but West grabbed my arm and shit, he didn't quite know his strength, though I could hack it, because Prussia is strong as a banshee on crack (I'd seen it, or something similar anyway, a drunk England should not practice his magic.) Or Russia on alcohol, though the fat lard could lie on you and you would suffocate under his sheer weight.

I shouldn't have thought about Russia and drinking, because he always drank but things, he. Nope. Not going there. Cause it didn't matter anymore.

"Stop lying to me."

"West."

"Gilbert."

"Luddy." His fingers tightened around mine and I laughed. He spun me and his jaw was clenched and face stern and eyes blazing blue.

"Bruder."

"What is your problem, _bruder_?"

He shook me, both hands on either arm's now.

"You are not okay. You have not been okay for a long time," he spat out.

I gritted my teeth. "So? What's it gonna change? What are you going to do? To _fix poor little dissolved Prussia? _Remember, you didn't stop your Boss from kicking me out, did you?"

He faltered. "Bruder – I, I tried. I didn't want –"

"And now your all upset," I said, wishing we hadn't got into this argument. "So just, stop it. Can we not talk about this?"

"We never talk about this! I can't stand seeing you like this. Bruder, it, it _hurts _me. I do not like this."

"It, Luddy." Crap, this was all emotional and shit and I'd never talked to him about what happened while I was with Russia and he'd tried a few times but he'd always respected it and why did he have to bring it up now?

Stupid, fucking Ivan. Russia. Shit head.

"What – what did – did he rape you?"

Oh, the one thing he'd always wanted to ask but never had the guts too. I think he was scared of the answer.

"No. He never raped me." There, I'd finally told him but Ludwig was still staring at me in fear, waiting for something.

"But he did … things."

I grasped my cross, the one thing that was always mine and Ludwig's. Ours, forever, no matter what happened in all the years of this world.

"I don't want to talk about it."

I didn't.

Because how do you tell your brother some crazy Russian Nation did things to you against you will? Better yet, how do you tell them that he didn't rape you?

Because it's not rape if you don't say no.

* * *

><p>Bum, bum, buummmmm! Yeah. I said Russia never raped him, though, you probably coulddd call it rape, I mean, the whole psychological stuff and Stockholm syndrome manipulation he did would be considered, uh, rape-ish [that should totally be a word in the dictionary.] Well, Prussia's the 'victim' here and the 'victim's' can sometimes blame themselves, even when it's not their fault, so I can't say it's not rape because Prussia think's it's [goes off on tangent,] Yeah. Hm.<p>

Anyway, damnit, okay, new POV will be in the next chapter then. I swear. Hopefully … this was an entire Prussia chapter and guess what? America was going a little crazy before the meeting. Oooh! What other stuff has he done and nobody noticed?

As an added note, I'll get back to America, I promise, it's just, well Prussia is so addictive to write! I lovelovelove himmmm!

Oh, and I got one review for my last chapter. Just saying.

*Cries in corner with suspiciously placed mushrooms, seriously, in OHSHC, there is a verrrry awkward placed mushroom on Tamaki, so yeah, just imagine that, but on me, the faceless Australian female that none of you know.*

I will not beg for reviews because I am also writing this for myself but a sincere thank you to Zaura Fay who did. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and hopefully I get to do some more Germany/Prussia love. Cause it's awesome Oh, and all the other characters. So many!

Oh and you know how that new country has just be made, that one that has been in civil war for years? Please tell me that I wasn't the only one imaging the birth of a new 'Nation.' Hetalia has seriously impacted my life.


	9. You tear down my walls

**You tear down my walls because it's what you're good at**

-*Get your hands off me, let me stand up on my own, stop oppressing and loving me, please just let me go. You hurt me so I hurt you, but I'm scared and I have to fight. I don't want to fight, I want to live, and have you tell me it's all alright.

But it isn't, it won't be, and I know it, okay? But love me, just love me, and I'll do what you say*-

* * *

><p>I stepped out of the bathroom, all warm and stuff, actually looking forward to sleeping on the piss of crap mattress because I was freaking tired and this day had been whacked. First America went crazy, then Russia was all kolkol, my stupid brother got his ahoge wrapped around a doorknob and Spain, the bastard, had felt me up in front of everyone.<p>

There was other shit that happened as well, but everyone else sucked and weren't important.

So I was looking forward to sleeping and I was happy that Feliciano was already asleep in his room (not shared with Potato-head because he could damn well stay away from my idiotic little brother) but no.

So obviously I had to open the door, step outside and see a face that made me wish I could throw something at it. But the only thing I had was the towel around my waist and I was not throwing that. The pervert would like it.

"Oh my little Romano. You're so cute. So red and flushed from the shower. Like a tomato!"

"Spain you bastard, what are you doing in here?" I shouted, wanting to cover myself from the man sitting so blissfully on my bed, like he belonged there.

But real man didn't show embarrassment and my body was awesome so I didn't need to cover it up.

"To see you of course."

"Well, you've seen me, now leave you idiot."

I stomped over to my laid out pyjama's but in doing so I went to close to Spain and Spain was a touchy-feely type of Nation who just laughed when I said no.

"Gah! What are you doing? Don't touch me."

"Ahaha."

See? He laughed.

I was in his lap and my towel was up to my thighs but I kept my grip tight because there would be no free view for my ex-boss because Spain was a pervert and just eew. He wasn't good looking at all. He was ugly and stupid and green eyes like his were gay. They screamed gayness and bastardness and my eyes were awesome.

"Eh? Lovino's so red," Spain chuckled, his arms around my waist and I shrieked and punched him in the face. Blood trickled down his nose but his eyes were glued on something else.

"Spain, don't call me that," I yelled, manly of course, because my punch had made me let go of my towel and now it was open and he was seeing a vital region that I didn't want him to see.

I went to hide it but he grabbed my hand and turned me around so I was straddling him, my limp dick resting against the bulge in his pants.

"Don't look." I tried to squirm away but he tightened his grip and a hand cupped me. Both my hands were free now and I dug my fingers into his shoulders, which weren't firm and hard at all and I yelled at him because the idiot was touching me without my permission.

"Don't touch me," he trailed his fingers up. "T-there. B-bastard."

"My my, little Lovino is getting excited," Spain giggled and I slapped him across the face.

"Spain you bastard."

He tensed around me and our noses were touching and the pervert was staring at me with that freakishly cheerful face of his but it was different. Like when he'd come home from fighting England, or France or anyone really and I'd shoddily try to patch up the bleeding wounds that he swore were fine and he'd hug me and blood would get everywhere. All over my clothes and on my cheeks and he'd apologize and say he'd have to clean it up.

But the way he looked at the blood, smeared all over me, made me storm off and shower by myself. I didn't know what he would do if he touched me.

Or maybe I did, and that's why I ran away.

"S-spain. Go; go back to your room. I-it's late and we, we have stuff to do, you know tomorrow," I said, totally not shaking because Spain wasn't scary _at all_. Like ever. He was a bastard and oblivious and always cheerful but he would never hurt me. Not that he could, because I'd just kick him off and beat him up.

"So you know, sleep. S-sleep is good."

"Mah, mah, my little tomato~" and his voice was lower and his accent coming through and those eyes of his were dark like they sometimes were when he watched me pick tomatoes in the field. "Why so nervous?" He smiled but I could move and he was _still touching me. _"I just wanna say goodnight to my favourite subordinate."

"You're n-not my boss anymore," I shouted, yes, I shouted loudly and his hair was brushing against mine and he rolled us so I was back down on the bed and not liking my position at all. Romano didn't go under anyone, ever. Because he was the top. Totally. Who liked girls.

"Are you all hot and bothered from seeing America going batshit insane on Prussia today?" I added, cause he was being, well, even more stupid and affectionate than usual.

"Now, tomato-

"Don't call me that-

"I'm always hot and bothered just from being around my little subordinate!" He said cheerfully, bouncing me into his lap and again, I tried to hit the little twit because _I was still naked!_

"Sick pervert! Did you have these thoughts while I was a kid?"

The sad thing is, his face twisted up and he thought about it. Then it got even worse, because he smiled, all oblivious like he usually is.

"Well you were a cute kid and I did get to bathe you!"

I chose to ignore the kid bit because I still, after all these years, didn't know how to react to that slight paedophilia quirk of his.

He just didn't get how wrong it was, and no, I did not feel special that he'd liked me for so long or anything because that shit was wrong and that's how people treated Feli all the time. Not me.

"Did not! I stopped that as soon as I could."

"I know, I was so sad. Maybe we should have another boss!Spain chibimano! Bath, hmm?" I brought my knees up, to protect uh, certain vital regions and crossed my arms over my chest, annoyed because I was still a bit wet and it was freakin freezing.

"No, you idiot!"

"Eh? Why not? We can wash each other's back and use bubbles and everything."

I went beet red because yes, the sicko had done that and no, it was not fun. At all.

"I'm not a kid anymore."

The leer he sent me, completely devoid of any childish innocence made me wrinkle my nose and turn away.

"Of course not, little lovi. I've noticed~"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I sneered, but quite frankly, who wanted to know what went on in that dense little thing he called a mind?

"Just that my little subordinate has grown up to be an even cuter adult." He should shut up now because I was starting to get even more pissed off, than my usual pissed off state. Which I was in, all the time, because I was around him all the time and if you were around him all the time than you'd be pissed off too. And now that your face is bigger it just means more space that can turn red."

"SPAIN YOU ASSHOLE!"

The idiot kissed me and I bit his lip.

When he pulled back he was smiling and there totally weren't tears in my eyes because I wasn't scared or turned on (stupid vital region! It was revolting!)

"Haha. I'll always be yours boss my little Lovi."

"I hate you."

He was still smiling that creepy smile but it wasn't like Russia's or anyone else's. It was his own brand of craziness and I tried to push him off me again but he touched Sicily.

And I cried out.

"I love you too my little Lovino."

"S-stop!"

"Say please? I love it when Lovi begs me."

"I n-nev-aah! Beg," I panted and I was heating up and it completely wasn't because of Spain because Spain was stupid and nice and _dominating _and I didn't like to be dominated. I was the dominating one. And he never forgot me but he liked Feliciano and my brother was cute but he said 'I love you' to me, and he just said Feliciano was cute. Not that I cared because I didn't love the asshole.

And he just wanted grandfather's inheritance.

Spain smiled and kissed me and my mouth was open so he stuck that talented tongue in and I swore, because he'd caught me off guard.

"I – I don't love you." I can't. Don't make me.

Spain stopped kissing me, moved back, face flushed, eyes dark and _he was the Conqueror and Pirate all over again._

"Oh my little tomato-faced Lovino. You're cute even when you're lying."

And that smile didn't leave his fucking face.

* * *

><p>I glanced wearily at the arm beside, the same one that had slammed the door shut.<p>

"Russia, please move aside, I want to retire to my room."

"Litva," he began, the way he always did, that heavy voice sliding over my name, sending shivers down my spine. I did not want to know what he was going to say, I did not want him to speak.

"You should leave Prussia alone Russia." I could have hit myself. I thought I had more control than this, but I wanted to change the focus, to something other than me but it seems my knee-jerk reaction is still as strong as ever.

I was independent now. So, okay. Deep breath. I was right, he should leave Prussia alone and I was allowed to say so. Because I was independent and strong and he was not in charge of me anymore.

"Are you telling me what to do, my little Baltic?"

He sounded pleasant but I could hear the undertone of menace, something that all of us who had lived with him could automatically recognise. Except for Latvia, who was too scatter-brained to realise until too late.

"I am not telling you anything, I am merely suggesting that it would be better for everyone if you did," I said softly, keeping my back straight but unable to meet his eyes.

The nose was a much safer place anyway, although Russia sometimes got annoyed if I did not give him all my 'attention.'

I was independent again, so I could do what I want.

He chuckled. "You stand up to me, but then again, you always did in your own, polite little way."

Cold, but gloved fingers stroked the insides of my wrist, slow and sure, almost like a habit.

"Russia, I am no longer under your control, let go of me." See, I was calm and certain and he really should let go of me, although the strokes both relaxed and scared me.

An uncomfortable combination of emotions but something I was quite used to feeling.

I hated the man, truly I did.

"I have, but I'm not happy about it. You should be with me, and I should be with you. My Toris, I miss you," he said, voice even but empty, like he'd detached himself from what he was saying.

I didn't like it, it hurt to hear it and quite frankly, it should not.

"Russia, please." And I was not pleading, voice soft. "Times have changed."

And they had.

"And you're free from the big, bad scary Russia you hate so much."

He pressed against my skin, the beat of my pulse jumping up and getting faster. In times like these, I usually felt like crying, but I had not done it in years and I would not know.

"….I don't hate you Russia," I said after a moment, swallowing before gently easing my wrist away. I held it to my chest and stared past him, at the hallway which was suddenly, and most inconveniently, abandoned.

"Litva, do not lie to me."

"…I do not hate you completely."

"Kolkol –"

I do not know how what Russia would have done, (I was quite concerned) but a flaming, dressed up blonde came storming around the corner, skirt flapping dramatically and held out his finger.

"Like, totally stay away from Liet."

The urge to cry got worse.

"Feliks . . ."

"Ah, privet Poland. Come to interrupt a lover's quarrel?" Russia said happily, but his eyes were angry and the wall under his hand started to crack.

"You two are like, totally not lovers," Poland said snarkily and I wanted him to leave, because Russia was dangerous but at the same time, he would not listen to me. He never did.

Frankly, he made me feel like a tired mother with a bratty, cross-dressing child.

"Once lovers, always lovers," Russia informed him and I balked.

"Russia –"

"Once ditched, always ditched," Poland said back, hip cocked out and my face flushed. He was going to get us killed. And really, this was a private matter.

"Poland!"

"What liet, he, like, totally started it," Feliks whined at me, but his foot was tapping at the ground and I could see how nervous he was. "He was, like, pawing at you." Well yes, he had been, but it wasn't the first time and in no way did I think it would be the last.

The image of Russia as a giant bear, eyes wide and pawing at my chest for some peanut butter (or in this case, Vodka) nearly made me laugh, but my self-preservation made me hold my chuckles in.

"Upset that I do what you aren't man enough to?"

If Russia hadn't been caging me in I would have left, walked into my room and closed the door (though I would feel bad for leaving Feliks to die, though he would deserve it.) But alas, I was but a toy, being fought over by two children who couldn't grow up. Two children, who were also Nations and each dangerous in their own right (with a different type of craziness surrounding them both.)

"I'm like, totally manly! Liet knows that."

"Oh, do you litva?" Oh no, they had both turned to me and Russia was leaning in way too close.

"I –um, can we not –" I waved my hands about, not knowing what to say. I thought I'd gotten away from this.

"Like, of course. Because like, Liet totally loves me and I can be manly, even in a dress. But I like, don't have to be manly, because Liet loves me just like, the way I totally am. Now leave or I'll bring out Poland Rule on you."

"So Liet 'loves' you does he? How about I show you how to really love?"

"Like, totally no way."

"Kolkol," spilled itself from Russia's mouth and Feliks arms were crossed over his silky shirt and Russia took a step forward but I jumped up and grasped his arm.

"Russia! Please don't! he's – he's just being himself. He doesn't mean to offend." Russia gave me a dismissive look but I refused to let go.

"I didn't take him all those years ago, I just took you. Maybe he was jealous that he didn't get to be with us." And then Russia, psychotic, insane, ex-boss Russia, hugged me to him, squishing my face against his chest.

I couldn't see but I didn't have to, because I heard Feliks' stamp his foot and storm over, tugging at the back of my shirt.

"Like, totally let go of him."

I moved my face back, taking a deep breath of air, my feet kicking in the air and saw Russia reach out and stroke Feliks' face.

And there went all of the confident and fire my old friend had as he froze.

"Russia wh-" I began.

"Ivan, my little Toris."

Ivan drew Feliks close, opening his arm so both of us were side my side and pressed close to the ice Nation. I shivered, it was not safe to be in his embrace. I could deal with it though, but I needed to get Feliks' away.

It was sort of nice for him to come and (try to) save me though.

"Hm – maybe I'll see how far that make-up goes down? Do you think Toris will join us? He's already seen all of me, and all of you, maybe he'd like to see all our naked flesh pressed against each other?"

"_Ivan –" _I hissed.

Poland yanked me away and Russia stayed there, hands outstretched and eyes glittering. I felt Feliks' tense, steel himself and then he said, "We're like, totally going to go now?"

"Oh? Did I scare you?" Russia said happily and I swallowed, wanting to take a step back but I held my ground.

"Like, you totally didn't, but like, we need to go and like shower, 'kay?"

"Together?" Russia asked, eyes hungry. And my motherly instinct rose up (which Feliks had always teased me for) because I wanted to see away the pain and loneliness. But what Russia wanted, well, I couldn't give it.

"Of c-"

I pressed a mouth over Feliks' mouth and dragged him back, using the strength that had helped us conquer and hold nearly all of Europe in our grasp for so many years.

"Goodbye Russia, we will see you tomorrow at the evening."

"Of course my little neighbours. And you called me Ivan Toris, good boy."

I admit, to myself, that I ran but I could not help but look back once, even as I stole back to the safety of Feliks' room.

I'd come out of this encounter unscathed but all I wanted to do was to soothe Ivan's pain away.

And I absolutely hated it.

* * *

><p>"Mattie? What are you doing in here?" I sat up from I'd been trying to get comfortable in my bed, a little confused as to why my brother was here but also for the fact that he hadn't waited for me to get up. He'd knocked and entered.<p>

And as old England says, "it's ungentle manly to barge one's way into another's home." And Mattie was pretty gentlemanly.

He hurried over, lifting up the blanket and letting all the cool air in.

"What are you –"

"Ssh, Alfie, go to sleep. I'm just going to spend the night."

And maybe on some other night, in some other place I would have teased that he needed his big brother and I would have ruffled his hair, but I just stared at him as he snuggled his way under the blankets, entwining his legs in mine.

I stared and then I lowered myself back down and I wondered, how he could share a bed with me?

"Are you sure? This isn't – it, will you be okay?"

He laughed lightly and his eyes were ancient with all he had seen and done. I didn't like it, I tried to keep it out of his eyes as much as possible, even though we'd both been alive long before England came.

Matthew had been alive before me, he was the older one. I think. That's what he said.

But I liked being the older one, the big brother and he let me.

"I've shared your bed many times through the decades Alfred, long after what," he paused, dragging the blankets up to his chin. "Long after what happened."

I faced him, trying to warm his cold toes up with my feet.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

He laid a hand in between us and I rested my hand on top, fingers wrapped around each other's.

"Because you didn't remember and it wouldn't have accomplished anything. It would have only hurt you."

"But I hurt you," I said back and it was hard, because I wasn't meant to hurt people.

What was he talking about … when did I hurt him … I –

Oh, the near-rape.

I rubbed at my head.

"And I hurt you back," he said and he had. He'd stood above me as Washington burned and I tried to claw through my chest and at my heart.

And he'd grabbed me by the hair, lifted me up, tears streaming down his face and he'd said.

He said.

"_Why did you do this to me? You said you loved me? How, how could you? HOW COULD YOU! I loved you brother and you broke my trust," he screamed, sobbing and I wondered what he was talking about._

_He was talking about something. I'd known he was going to do this. I felt like I deserved it._

_Wait, hadn't I done something to him after I'd burnt down –_

_Let's play a game._

_Oh._

"_Mattie, I-I do, I do love you."_

_He slapped me across the face, those curling tendrils of hair flying free and he looked beautiful, the glow from the fire lighting up the pained and crazed sheen to his eyes._

_He looked like me. He looked broken. And only I could fix him._

_My beautiful, broken toy._

"_I'm going to make you regret the day you crossed me America. Because I am Canada, and you do not fuck with me," he said slowly, each word careful but full with sincerity._

_He slammed my head back to the ground and god, did my fucking chest hurt but I couldn't look away from him and people were screaming in the background. My White House was burning down in the background and I hadn't wanted to hurt him, but England had forced me to declare war on him. Again. He and France were fighting and they got pissed off because I was trying to stay neutral._

_England cut off my ships and he was trying to oppress me all over again. Fucking England, I'd shown him, I'd bend him over my knee and smack his ass raw to teach him not to cross me again._

_And yet, again, Mattie wouldn't join my side._

"_Come near my border again America, and I will hurt you."_

_I raised a hand, stroked down his soot covered cheek and remembered a different expression, even as my back snapped in half and I contorted in agony._

"_You, still, love me," I somehow got out and I laughed. I laughed in his face and he shrieked, composure gone._

"_You'll be mine Mattie, I'll never let you go."_

"_I'm not yours to own," he sneered, punctuating each word with a fist to my cheek. I spat out a tooth, but it was okay, because another one would pop up in its place soon. I was America. I was strong._

"_And yet you're still mine. You'll always be mine. My weak little brother."_

_He pulled me close, teeth bared and searing holes into my face with the force of his glare._

"_Then I'll make your heart remember me, I'll make you mine back. You'll never forget me."_

_A burst of ash and fire and one of the pillars of my house crumbled and fell, the flesh of my heart seared in agony and Mattie's and England's troops cheered behind us._

_I coughed and it was wet and it felt like my heart was trying to rip itself apart as well as curl up into a ball._

"_Let's play a game shall we?"_

"_Don't say that."_

"_Who?" I joked and yes, this was right. Mattie's face like this, every emotion of anger and pain and resentment aimed at me. I was meant to be all my brother looked at it. I was his everything, like England had been and Mattie always had/was/will be._

_Another crack and half of my building was gone._

"_You're not my brother and I am not weak."_

_I laughed. "Love you."_

_Matthew stood up and before he knocked me unconscious, he said, "love you back."_

I wrapped my arms around my brother and he nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck.

"I remember that night now. I remember what I said."

"I didn't know why, I didn't understand how Alfred, but I'd known you'd forgotten, that it was completely wiped from your memory." His eyelashes fluttered against my skin, tickling it and I held him closer, because he'd kept this all inside, for so long.

To forget something like this, no, to wipe this from my mind, it was insulting, that I could do this to him and he had to live with the fact that I didn't remember. Like he wasn't important.

But it would explain the odd twinges of pain and heat in my heart when I had seen him fighting during the Wars, face fierce. I'd brushed it off, but truly, my heart had remembered what he'd done.

At least one of my vital regions had.

"You're important to me, I would-I don't know why, it's not – it's like I'm me but I'm someone else in those moments and, and when I'm not that person, I don't know what I did."

"But it's coming back, isn't?"

I swallowed, and planted a soft kiss on the crown of my brother's head.

"I love you Mattie. I love you."

A gentle palm placed itself over my heart, the steady beat all I could feel under the warm weight of his hand.

"Love you back."

* * *

><p>Uni's back on, so it's off to intense study of Japanese. -_- I wonder, very often, what the hell was going through my mind when I decided to learn a second language. Oh well. Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, I finally got to do my new pov, yay, Spamano, I love it. And I finally got to do Canada's response.<p>

'Tomorrow' in the story is the final day of the meeting, so, essentially, these nine chapters will only be about two days real time. Which makes me sort of depressed but hey, I did a lot of flash backs. And don't worry. More crazy America will be coming soon.

Tata for now. Reviews are always appreciated.


	10. A field of corpses

**A field of corpses**

-*I weep for the days when despair wasn't easy, when happiness was plenty and it fell off the trees. I hunger for the moments where I loved completely, and you promised me, that a memory is just a memory*-

* * *

><p>"Ve, what's your earliest memory Doitsu?"<p>

"I would rather not talk about it now Italia, we must get to the meeting."

It was morning, and I had spent more time than usual attempting to pry a naked Italia off of my person. Prussia was on the other side, after Italia spent much time whining about Prussia being alone, to which my bruder responded with his usual exclaims of loving himself.

I decided not to argue that the bed was much too small, we would become hot during the night and that, in case of an attack, sleeping together would ruin our speed and accuracy in responding.

Mein bruder had told me something, something I had never wanted to realise, kept my silence about, but I had worried none the less. He had been different, when I finally saw him once The Wall went down. He was quiet and his smile was not as smug, not as confident.

And the way Russia watched him, it frightened me. The way he still seemed to want mein bruder, the way Prussia did not treat Russia with the same superior 'awesomeness' that he would to usual suitors.

He had not raped him, the one thing I feared above all others, but it did not feel right. Nothing mein bruder said about him felt right. He did not hate him the way he should, the way _he had _hated others, the way he usually would.

And so he suffered and my own failings prevented me from asking. So I had cleaned, and been more hands-on than usual (a certain Italia helped with that) and let him stay with me. I'd missed him and I, I loved him, so it hurt to see him so changed.

I felt more than guilty over what had happened to mein bruder, as he had been innocent in all this. I should have said no to Hitler, should not have started the War, but he had a way with words and I was quite bitter from my failure.

I had argued, refused to cooperate with what he wanted to do to my brother, but in the end, I only managed to have him 'unofficially' abolish my big brother, the one who'd protected me and taught me all that he knew (which, in reflection, was not that appropriate for a child.)

"Eh? But I wanna know."

"No. We must hurry," I said, dragging the bouncing brunet who had latched onto my shirt off of the bed.

"But Doitsu, Doitsu, why won't you tell me? Don't you think I'm smart enough to get it because I caught a turkey once and we were going to cook it, and Romano said we should but it was so cute that I couldn't kill it and then fratello yelled at me but he couldn't kill it either –," Italia rambled on, eyes squeezed shut.

"How does intelligence relate to a turkey?" I asked, confused with Italia's logic.

"Doitsu is so smart. So what was your first memory Doitsu?"

"You do not want to know."

"Yes I do. Yes I do," Italia said, somewhat seriously. I sighed, and smoothed down my hair, knowing we wouldn't get anywhere until I answered.

"It is not a happy one."

"Then as your friend I should know. It doesn't matter what it is I want to know everything about Germany."

I could not remember that far, I did not even truly know the date of my birth, when I first came into existence, and Prussia had told me that it did not matter.

"My first memory. . . is a field of corpses."

"Like . . . dead people?" Italia said slowly, oddly with no shaking.

"Yes, Italia. I woke up and I was surrounded by dead people."

"What happened next?"

I remembered the feel of dried blood on my body, the stench of the bodies that had been decaying for goodness knows how long and then I remembered the hand reaching out to me and that familiar, ever grating voice.

"Prussia found me."

"_Hey kid, you look like crap. Come with me and I'll fix you up, you're going to be my new little bruder."_

"_Bruder?"_

_A callused hand yanked me up, but my legs couldn't keep me up. They hurt and I yelled out and the strange man caught me around the waist, regarding my misshapen legs._

"_They're broken," he said, frowning even as he moved my body around so he could carry me, jostling me even though I could tell he was trying to be careful. It hurt and my eyes were wet, but what went into my mouth tasted like metal._

_What was metal?_

_I – who, who was I?_

"_Don't worry kid, this time everything will work out. Everything will be different."_

"_Different?"_

_The odd man smiled at me, hair glinting even in all this death and decay and a yellow bird popped up from his hair, surprising me. He stared intently at me and leant forward, resting his lips on my forehead which was all sticky and warm even though I felt cold._

"_Nothing, just silly stuff kid, I'm just saying I'll be here for you, since you look like crap and all so let's go back to my awesome place and I'll get some maid or something to fix you up bruder."_

"_I," I looked at all the dead bodies around me and there were faces, scrunched up in agony that I thought I knew but it hurt my head so I stopped looking. The man turned, walked away from all the dead, the dead people? Whose people were they? They had funny outfits on, I –._

"_Bruder?"_

"_Yeah, that's me. Otherwise known as the awesome Prussia."_

_I rested my head against the stiffness of his shirt, avoiding the buckles. He was scary and his teeth were big when he smiled like that but I wanted to get away from this place and he said he would help me._

"_What's a bruder?"_

_Gilbird cheeped and nestled in my hands. His name was Gilbird. He, Prussia, he must have said it sometime, otherwise, it did not logically make sense how I knew._

_We left the field and I looked back but my vision wavered and my head hurt and all the faces. They were, they –_

"_You're mein bruder West, and I'm your bruder."_

"_West?" I asked, wondering why he called me a direction though I, I did not know how I knew what direction was._

_He kept walking and he was so big and his arms so strong around me._

"_I walked to the West of my land and I found you, so until you know who you are, I'll just have to call you West."_

_I glanced down at Gilbird and tried not to wince as my legs swung a bit. My throat was parched, my muscles aching and I hadn't told Prussia that I did not know who I was._

"_That's a silly name," I said and Prussia laughed._

"_Yeah well kid, I like it so it's what I'm gonna call you."_

_I rolled my tongue in my mouth, ran my fingers over Gilbird's soft feathers, "well then bruder, I suppose I'll have to call you East."_

"Ve? Doitsu?"

"It is late Feliciano, we should go to the meeting."

Italia pouted, his curl somehow falling limp and he reached over and rubbed my forehead, tongue poking out as he tried to smooth away the wrinkles. I sighed, because really, it was too late for me to fight with him over something so small.

And even though it was illogical, made no sense, the way his soft fingers, made for cooking and hugging, felt on my skin reminded me of warmth and the blurred image of a little girl holding a broomstick.

"Yes, yes," I grabbed his wrist and patted him on the head. "I'm all better now. Now go get ready."

The water in the bathroom turned off and Italia walked straight in, stripping off even though bruder was still naked. I rushed in afterwards, because the idiot would get himself tied up in – he would get caught, again.

The blurred image went away and so did the memory of the field of corpses. Quite frankly, I was glad, because the first one didn't make sense and the second one would just distract me. Besides, how did the two even relate?

* * *

><p>Switzerland fired his gun, it narrowly missing the collar of France's shirt. I swallowed my burger, because hey, I wasn't going to put it down just because Vash was getting all trigger happy again.<p>

"Uncivilised as always I see," old pompous-ass Austria said, eyebrows raised as France sweat-dropped and backed off from the little cutie he'd been hitting on. Japan fidgeting on the other side of Lichtenstein seemed to be asking for help (from a hero, obviously) so I jumped in, easing this fight with my awesome words of wisdom.

"Hey, hey, hey! No need to get all Bronx on Frenchy here just because he was checking out her clothes. He's French, obviously he wanted to see what brand her clothes were so I don't think you need to shoot my building. Obama's all don't ruin my big, expensive rooms with your Nation fights so, I think, because my ideas are great, that you should just visit France later on and talk this out. Hey, maybe give him some of Iggy's food since all of the buildings here are innocent?"

I pictured France and Switzerland crying and cursing underneath me, so maybe I shouldn't have jumped in.

"America!" Switzerland yelled, swivelling and aiming his gun at me and I mean, really, where had he been hiding that? It was bloody huge and he'd have to have assembled it from scratch because no way would of my guys missed it. We were American, we knew guns. I legalised it, because that's how well I knew guns. Because guns were epic.

Like my quick draw, which no one could ever beat me on.

"Switzerland, I do not think-" Japan began, which was sweet an all, but I was the hero and I was going to deal with this. Japan should just, I don't know, sit down and make the next Ipad or something.

Japan – happy, safe Japan.

I swallowed.

"Say what you really mean," Vash yelled at poor Kiku and I plopped down, staring at the hole in my wall and wondering if I shoved enough grease from the fries at Micky D's in there it would magically sew the wall back together and then Obama wouldn't notice the hole and get his 'I'm disappointed in you America' face. I didn't like that face. It reminded me of the way England used to look at me and that was just annoying because it wasted precious time when I could be thinking about the next space ship that I wanted Tony to help me make with a laser beam that could go around and steal all the tea in the world and replace it with coffee.

Tea sucked, coffee rocked, I was doing the world a favour.

"And you," the gun that had absently still been aimed at me (I'd moved to the side, let's see who shoots on target now, hahaha) was facing France again. "Don't touch my sister like that."

Lichtenstein blushed, playing with her skirt but she cocked her head sideways, glancing between France (his face looked funny when he was panicking) and her brother. "But isn't this how you act with Austria?"

Someone coughed or choked, died, whatever. Who cares. Though I could save them, dramatically, because that's what heroes do. Oh, they stopped coughing, they're fine.

"Haha!" I laughed. "She's totally right. You're a pervert too."

Austria went bright red and Switzerland was staring at the young chick like she'd repainted the basketball court when he wasn't looking (something Cuba would do, bastard, or Mexico or anyone really because they all knew they couldn't defeat me in my game.)

Hungary, that weird chick, smirked, saying "Oh, Roderich, what is this I hear? Have you and Vash been getting close? Without telling me?" For some reason her fingers twitched, like she was pressing down on something and her eyes went all glazed. It was sort of like the expression Kiku got over those 2D anime girls he had pictures of everywhere.

I elbowed Canada, whispered in his ear. "Oh, are they gay?"

"Nothing is going on," Austria screeched. "This is improper!"

"Lily. Don't – I-"

"Did I say something wrong?" Lichtenstein asked, eyes wide.

Canada sighed and elbowed me back but I took it like America which meant I didn't feel it with my rock hard abs. So hard you could cook a thousand burgers on my chest alone. Because hard equals hotness and hotness is needed to cook. Yeah.

"No America, and even if they are, it is none of our business," Matty whispered, which he shouldn't, because it was hard to hear him even when he spoke loudly.

"Why not? I wanna know."

Switzerland had somehow unfolded his gun and hidden it again, opting to awkwardly move over to his sister whose eyes were shining. "No, no of course not. But I don't act that way with that pompous jackass."

"Excuse me," Austria said, Hungary trying to sooth her husband who looked like one of those peacocks with his feathers all ruffled. "Who is the jackass? At least I am not a gun-wielding trigger-happy maniac, my goodness, it is only because Lily is a saint that she can stand you."

"How dare you call her by her human name!" Switzerland yelled, so totally restraining himself from jumping over Lichtenstein to strangle him. "How do you even know it?" He continued, which I didn't even know how I knew Lichtenstein was called Lily because I was way too busy and awesome to usually talk to her but I would you know, because heroes listen to even the tiny people and save them. From Communist's.

"You said it before," Austria said, pushing his glasses back in a way that all the smart guys in Kiku's cartoon, anime things do.

"I told him brother," Lichtenstein corrected.

"Wha- but Lily, why? He – he's –"

"Everyone, could we please –" Finland tried to say but England spoke over the top. "Oh bloody hell, shut up. We need to get back to the meeting you incompetent fools."

"I'm sorry," Lichtenstein said regretfully, "but Roderich and I are friends. That doesn't mean I love you any less, brother! I love you, truly I do. There is no one who could take your place."

"Oh mon cher, we could spend this time together, could we not?" France said, trying to grope England. I ignored it, everyone did.

"Well, uh – there is no one that could take – yours – either," Switzerland awkwardly said, not noticing Norway who had been staring at him the whole time, obviously annoyed that old I'm-Neutral-but-I've-got-more-guns-than-anyone-Switzerland had his ass in Norway's face. I'd tell him, but Switzerland might pop out his gun and try to shoot me again.

His anger issues were almost as bad as Russia's.

"Oh, how moe," Japan said softly but Switzerland perked and spun around.

"Speak up Japan!"

Japan jumped. "Ah! I will try!"

"Everyone, please, can we all calm down," Finland pleaded, standing up and trying to grab everyone's attention. Nobody really listened and hey, I only heard it because I'm awesome and heroes listen to people and such. "Excuse me. Everyone?"

"Italy, please try not to eat pasta during meetings, it –"

The room went quiet, everyone freezing in their seats except for me (because it's so much effort to hold all your muscles still like that, not that I couldn't of course) and Russia, because Russia just smiles freakily all the time and he isn't really human.

Vietnam wasn't here today, she'd been there yesterday, when, when it happened but I was glad that she'd had to go home. Sometimes I couldn't look at her in the face and – why was I even thinking of this? Heroes don't have regrets because they always do the right thing. Ugh. It was the lack of food, I really needed to eat. Obviously. Because yeah, I didn't think about little Vietnam, I just let her stay away from me. Far, far away, like all the way over in her tiny, irritating country.

Everyone turned to where the icy cold was coming from and even Finland eeped at the sight of Sweden's face. Denmark laughed, his sneer looking just like Prussia's.

Denmark had known me as a child, he'd been a nice guy actually, though I'd learn later that his Vikings were pretty crazy. He'd never been that bad to me really, he'd just gone off and searched the whole place and then him and all the other guys like England and Spain all got antsy over who would live with me. I was happy by myself but I could see why they'd want to be around someone as cool as me.

And my land is pretty wicked.

So yeah, lot's of Denmark's kids lived here, they were pretty rad, quite a few them were famous like Scarlett Johanson (funny chick, seriously) and Viggo Mortenson (that dude from Lord of the Rings that came in all flying cape and swinging sword so of course he was gonna be king.)

"M'wife was try'n to spe'k."

"Ah, Sui, it's okay. You didn't have to get mad." Finland placed a gentle hand on Sweden's bicep, choking when Sweden turned his scary face on him. I was surprised he didn't run away but they'd been together for a while so I suppose he was used to Sweden's face. He'd have to be since he probably woke up next to it every morning.

"Th'y w're ign'rin' you."

Finland smiled, body relaxing. "Thank you, but now they're all listening." Sweden nodded and Finland cocked his head lightly, sort of shining in a weird way that I looked around to see if anyone else saw.

Canada was happy and all the girl's were happy, though Hungary was drooling, stars in her eyes and Ukraine was near tears, though that chick always seemed near tears. Belarus just watched with distrustful eyes and kept stroking her knife. She freaked me out and I was glad she wasn't my sister.

"Wife."

That other Italian nation, the angry one, piped up, yelling at Spain who was seriously looking suspicious. Like he'd stolen all of the burgers in Micky D's so everyone else had to suffer.

"What are you looking at bastard?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing important."

Other Italy leaned over, screeching and smacking the map out of Antonio's hand. It was some boot shaped county, probably Italy, but the bottom half was covered in love hearts and weird Spanish words.

Finland sort of sighed, patting Sweden's arm and returned his attention to the rest of the room.

"Sweden, please stop calling me your wife. It's embarrassing," Finland said softly.

Sweden stared at him.

"Hiii!"

"B't you're m' wife."

"Sweden . . . I . . . appreciate you as always . . . now let's get back to the topic at hand"

"M'kay. If that's w'at m' wife w'nts."

"Ooh sweden's getting frisky with his wife," Prussia jumped in Keskeskesing, which I still didn't understand, much like Russia's kolkolkol. Then Finland noticed the arm around his waist and he shrieked, slapping the hand away. Of course once he did that he noticed Sweden's expression and immediately went about trying to apologize.

"Rejected _Sui~_,"Denmark teased and Finland's eyes teared up. But Denmark was staring with a hungry expression that let me know his teasing was something else. He turned his head away to scowl when he noticed me looking. The Nordics were weird, their relationships were all weird and I didn't get but whatever worked for them. I'm sure some people didn't get Matty, France, Iggy and I but that's just the way we were.

"I'm sorry! I just, I just was surprised that's all. I didn't mean anything by it, honestly Sweden." Sweden's face couldn't be any scarier and one could tell that Finland was a breath's away from bolting. But the fear prevented him from moving and in all actuality, there was a bit of guilt there too.

"M'wife," Sweden stated and Finland let him say it, nodding enthusiastically in the hope that Sweden would forgive him.

I leant over to Canada. "Totally gay, bro. Totally gay."

"In this case," he whispered back. "You're actually right for once."

And that's how our meeting ended, the verbal arguments escalating loudly until Germany shut us up and told us to leave. The way our meetings usually ended but things were different this time. I mostly ignored it but I could see everyone was surprised that I didn't get involved in the fights after the beginning, that I kept quiet. Canada watched me warily, Prussia refused to meet my face and Iggy well, he had that look on his face, the one he'd had when I was a kid where he was scared to leave me alone in case I broke something in the house or in my body.

Pity the only thing broken was my head because a slice of cake and a cup of tea wouldn't fix it. Everyone was wary of me and my head just wouldn't shut up, wouldn't stop telling me to _'make them all mine.'_

And the memories, they just kept coming.

* * *

><p>University. Will. Be. The. Death. Of. Me. Sorry everyone! I've had no time and all the storyline I've written down is actually for the next chapter, which will be the break between the meeting and America's party. Oh, it's going to July 4th soon (in this fic) so yeah. Do you know how difficult it is to do multiple characters that keep speaking over each other AND have America's opinions interjected here and there. I didn't do it that much because I actually wanted the other characters and I wishwishwish I could do SwedenFinland/Denmark better because I love Denmark hunting those two down. *Giggles breathlessly*

Anyway, because I couldn't have this be entirely happy/humorous I had to put the beginning bit in. I love my angst, I really really love it. *Shivers in delight* Oh, Germany waking up in a field of corpses. So hooott. I know, I have issues.

Thank you to all the reviews I've received, I adore you guys. So keep up the good work, your comments always make my day and I hope I inspire you all to love the same pairings as I do. Which is basically everyone in a giant orgy. Mwahahaha.


	11. A letter for you

**A letter for you, a letter from me**

-*Shoot your gun, stumble back. I'm fraying at the edges, can't you see the cracks? *-

* * *

><p>I stood outside America's house, bloody hot because the weather here was shite and I really wondered why I had even come. But, I had, for some ungodly reason, decided to jump over the pond and visit him. It was not concern, I was not concerned that he seemed to be – to be stressed, or going mildly insane (the lad was always insane, not much I could do about it, even though I'd tried to fix him. He was something that just refused to mend.)<p>

I rang the doorbell, knocked again, and changed arms, transferring my basket of freshly, home-made scones. It was hunger merely, that had made him so odd at the last meeting, so I would give him some of my lovely food, wish him a good (or at least, not so horrible day) and then be on my way. That was all.

I rang the doorbell again, scowling, because Obama had kindly told me that yes, America was home, and that yes, he had finished all his work for the day. So the idiot should have answered the door by now.

A tiny fairy peeked her head out of the bushes, smiling curiously at me. "'Ello there little one. Could you tell me if a tall, blonde-haired idiot is inside?"

The tiny fairy nodded.

"He's ignoring me then. Probably on one of his daft games." I rocked on my feet, knocked once more, and, because America did not deserve my gentlemanly ways, I opened the door. Of course, that precise moment, was when America was actually going to let me in.

So the door smacked into his forehead but he bounced right off.

"America," I yelped, not in worry, of course.

He moaned and rubbed his head.

"Aw, Iggy. It's been ten seconds and you're already hitting me."

I gritted my teeth. "You left me out there for ten miniutes! Why don't you bloody answer your door you idiot. It's there for a reason." I huffed. "Anyway, there's nothing in your head for me to hurt, it's completely made of wood." I walked in, bypassing the America who rolled his eyes and shut the door behind me.

"Yah, yah. So, what are you here for Iggy?"

"And don't call me Iggy. It is England. Or did I not teach you manners?"

America smiled that infuriating smile at me. "Well, you tried. I just didn't want to listen. Besides, American is better than English anyway."

I smacked him over the head with my basket. "American isn't a language you insufferable fool. You just speak a butchered version of my language."

America whined again, rubbing his head and overdramatising things. "Jeez, what do you have in that basket? Your scones?"

" . . ."

There was nothing wrong with my scones. They were delicious.

America noticed my silence, actually paying attention for once (always at the most inconvenient times) and paled. "You're not serious are you? Why would you bring those things here?"

"My cooking is lovely," I shouted, throwing the basket at him. He caught it with his quick reflexes (it was his youth, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to defend against my powerful throw), protected his face and lowered it down. "And this is the last time I'll come here to see if you are alright." America blinked and I crossed my arms, scowling.

"Not that I came here for you, you idiot. Because you are one. It is, merely that you have been acting quite funny, and –" I clarified, making sure he was not getting the wrong impression. "- this will be the last time I shall worry about someone as silly and, and childish as you. And my scones are lovely and they would be a welcome treat at your table. So, enjoy yourself, and now I'm leaving."

I stormed off, leaving him to be stunned and the beauty of my words. At least, I would of, but America's silly abilities such as the strength and speed that arose from being a superpower, resulted in him slamming the front door close and standing in front of it, staring at me with the most peculiar look on his face. The same expression as when he had slammed me to the table and done what France ha-

I swallowed.

"America?"

His eyes were intense, his smile slightly off and then he blinked, returning to normal. "Ah, Arthur. You didn't have to. But thanks." He grinned, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"Of course I didn't have to." But still, I did not look away.

He wrinkled his nose, watched me warily. "Thanks for coming all the way over here but ah . . . do I have to eat the scones?"

"Britannia fork!"

"Ah!"

It left a nice hole in his door, I might say. And then I grabbed a scone and chased America around the house, attempting to 'forcibly' stuff one of my beautiful scones down his throat. We'd see how ungrateful he was then.

* * *

><p>*-And the time was 1779-*<p>

I stirred the spaghetti, hoping that would take away the black pieces of char but it just spread them further. I grimaced, sad at another failed attempt but it would still taste good, because British cooking was amazing, it was. Most definitely.

I scooped the spaghetti into the bowls and set them down at the table, taking my usual place at the head of the table and straightening my tie. Dinner is a formal occasion so one must dress for it.

"Alfred! Dinner's ready."

And then I realised what a bleeding, gibbering idiot I was.

I'd done it again.

I bit my lip, staring at the other plate of steaming food, the chair empty and I had to remind myself that no, Alfred wasn't coming down.

I rubbed my hand over my aching chest and maybe it was time I went over, to fight with my troops. Because my body was hurting more and more and Alf- America hadn't backed down yet.

That, that naïve idiot. I was protecting him, helping him and this is how he repays me? I was in the right, not him, all his claims of inequality and oppression were just futile means to anger me. He was just upset that I didn't spend more time with him, that I needed compensation for the protection my people were giving him. I had to fight with bloody France for goodness sake, which cost time, money and effort. And my King would not back down and neither would Francis's.

Two wars going on.

It was absolutely frustrating.

The house was silent, and I grit my teeth in anger, still staring at the empty chair beside me, the one he had always sat in and cheerfully ate my food. The only one.

"_Is this what they call nice-tasting food?"_

"_Of course it is."_

He would fall, he would fall soon and I would tell him that I was just teaching him a lesson, that he'd finally learnt he was better off with me and then I would pick up the pieces and bring him back home, to the place he belonged.

Canada didn't live here either and that wasn't right. He was a loyal son, brother, colony. So different to Alfred.

It was times like these I felt grateful to Matthew but it still didn't stop the pain that Alfred was causing. Physical pain, of course. Not emotional.

"_We don't want your stinking tea in our Country, we don't want you in our Country," they jeered, their Nation beside them. "So get out!"_

All my beautiful tea, thrown into the sea.

I stood up, the table going up in the air and I kicked his empty chair.

I just had to show him how wrong he was, how stupid he was being. No one left Britannia, no one did. I just had to make Alfred learn that.

Even if I had to break him apart.

* * *

><p>"Honey," Hungary called. "We got a letter."<p>

It was bright and gaudy and would most likely send Austria into a passionate, creative fit. Hungary did love when her husband (ex-husband) became all worked up but it took quite a while to calm him down since he refused to outlet his anger, in a more, sensual way.

If it was anything else, it would be fine, but as soon as creativity was brought into it, well, it gave Hungary quite a lot of free time to clean and talk to Japan.

The female Nation placed the red, white and blue invitation into her apron and straightened a nearby portrait of herself and Austria.

They weren't husband and wife anymore but Hungary, after so many years, was so used to it that she rarely visited her own house.

Well, not rarely. It did hide her plethora of yaoi manga's, doujinshi's, video's and live recordings of her fellow Nations (her favourite was USxUk and Spamano since Tsundere was just so cute!)

Hungary's collection was almost as big as Japan's, something she was quite proud of. She had also been lucky enough to see all of his collection. Well, she certainly hoped so, though Hungary thought that it would not be surprising if he had not told her of his more, extreme videos.

After all, there were some things that even Hungary would be embarrassed to admit she watched.

The female Nation reached the door to the piano room, automatically heading there since Austria was in the room 90% of the time but she paused. She paused because the door was open a jar and there was no music flowing from inside.

There were instead harsh whispers.

Hungary sneaked over, wishing she had my frypan because it calmed her down and was such a useful tool.

And she might, maybe, also love beating people over the head with it.

Hungary opened the door a tiny crack more, peeked through and her brows furrowed when she saw that it was Prussia. Prussia and Austria, very close, seeming to be yelling. Well, Austria was, Prussia was smirking and leaning against Roderich, his arm trapping him against the piano.

Hungary was tempted to go in and beat the crap out of her old friend, the irritating Prussian that he was, but, well, Roderich was blushing and Gilbert was smiling in that way that he'd done before she'd gotten married, before the Berlin Wall.

"Gilbert, remove your arm from my body."

"Why? I think I quite like it here," Prussia said back, smiling and his face was near Roderich's and Hungary didn't know, wasn't quite sure how she felt about this.

It was yaoi, she loved yaoi. This was boy on boy but, it was her husband, ex-husband and her (maybe, though she wouldn't admit it) best friend.

Roderich squirmed, cheeks red and glasses falling down on his nose, his face swelling as he puffed his cheeks out and folded his arms, his little _Vienna_ swinging angrily.

"Elizabetha is in the house."

Prussia's grin tightened and he moved in close, his lips brushing Roderich's who stiffened and watched him with a wary gaze.

"Your Elizabetha? She doesn't know does she? What I've done to you."

Roderich shoved him back but Gilbert grabbed him by the wrist, swung him and slammed over the piano, nestling Roderich's ass against his hips.

"Gilb-"

Gilbert shoved a hand over Roderich's mouth, stifling his cries and something lumped in Hungary's throat. She felt that familiar tingle in her groin but there was another behind her eyes.

Had they been sleeping together behind her back?

Had Roderich … been cheating on her, with Prussia, her best friend?

Gilbert bit into Roderich's back, laughing lightly as he arched.

"She's my best friend, Roddy. Why do you keep lying to her?"

Gilbert kissed his way up his lover's back and Hungary's breathing got heavier. Heavier and faster and Gilbert grabbed Roderich by the hair, forced him back and kissed him hard. It was rough, messy, things that Austria had never been with the female Nation.

And she wanted it, oh god, how Hungary wanted it.

"And what about Germany?" Roderich said viciously, eyes glinting.

Gilbert's smile was twisted. "Oh, mein bruder loves me, he won't ever leave me. Not again." Gilbert smashed his hips down, rubbing, and Roderich moaned.

"He won't, he won't. And neither will you or Lizzy," Gilbert said, almost like a chant.

Hungary wanted to be in between them, she wanted Gilbert in a way she'd always denied and she wanted him with her husband. The female Nation wanted to soothe the ache in Gilbert's heart the way her husband (ex-husband) was trying to do with his long fingers and graceful movements.

Fuck, fuck.

Hungary edged back, closed the door softly and set the letter down on a nearby table.

And then she left the house.

* * *

><p>"Brother Vash, we received a letter."<p>

Switzerland swung around, polish in one hand, gun in the others. "I don't care who it's from unless it's to do with work."

Lichtenstein shuffled forward, crinkling the edges of the letter.

"But brother, we always get this invitation and I –" the small girl swallowed, blushing as her brother paused and carefully set down his gun.

"What is Lily?"

Lichtenstein looked up, hopeful, teeth biting her lower lip. "Can I go this year?

* * *

><p>Japan opened the letter, knees underneath his body and the smell of freshly brewed tea wafting through out the room. It was a quiet day, a peaceful day.<p>

He had been expecting this letter.

Greece was on the tatami beside Japan, asleep with a cat perched atop his face. Japan had previously attempted to remove Leuka but Greece had patted his hand to say it was okay (and he was so casual with his touching! It was completely understandable that Japan had blushed) and Leuka had hissed at the stoic Nation.

They were fine as they were so he let them be.

The letter was addressed to both Greece and Japn, since many other's always addressed the sleeping Nations letters to Japan on such occasions ( Greece's work ethic may not be up to standards, but it was most certainly not as bad as his social organisation skills.)

Glitter fell to the floor and Japan sighed.

"Seems we have been invited again, Greece-san," he said to the other's sleeping form. Greece mumbled something indistinguishable and turned over. Leuka slid out from under his body and rested on the back of his head.

Japan breathed in deeply then finished his tea, just as Turkey came strolling into Japan's house.

"Hey. What's up little _Nihon_. Oh, and I see Greece is here too."

Greece threw the cat at him.

"Ah! Be careful of Leuka-chan, Greece-san!"

* * *

><p>"I have a letter."<p>

"Oh my, is that bad? Is everything okay Egypt? You're not dying are you?" Monaco gasped, rolling the hem of her skirt in her hands. "No one's invading you are they? Oh, I hope they aren't. I really do, because then Brother France might get hurt and I don't want him to get hurt." Monaco shot her hand over her mouth. "Not that I want you to get hurt, which I don't Egypt, but oh, what does it say? What is it?"

". . . An invitation."

* * *

><p>"Oh Litva~ It seems we have been invided to da same party again, da? Why not all go together?" Russia said cheerfully as he barged his way into Lithuania's house, patting Latvia on the head and ignoring Estonia. Lithuanai rushed after his old boss, throwing the letter into Estonia's palms, intent on stopping Russia from reaching the lounge room.<p>

"Russia! Please, come this wa-"

"Like what is he, like totally doing here Liet?"

The frantic, brown-haired man dived in between the two, Poland - hands on hips and earings dangling and Russia - a small, tiny piece of paper in his hands and his eyes closed. The KolKholz were not good. Not good at all.

"Da, we will go together, to da party, with my little Toris and his friends."

Said Toris swallowed and Poland slapped Russia across the face with his handbag, shrieking, "Like totally no way. I won't let you touch _my_ Toris!"

* * *

><p>"Yai, aru~ Why must I go to these things? My back is sore, I'm too old aru~ And they never have enough real Chinese food. It's all fake stuff, aru."<p>

Hong Kong stared at China and China huffed, taking an angry bite out of his bean bun.

"Honestly, it's so annoying aru and Ivan will be there and Japan too and America owes me so much debt but he'll keep promising to pay me back later, aru~ So why should I go?"

"It's impolite not to go," Taiwan said softly and the ancient Nation glared at her.

"Do you even want to go aru?"

The girl smoothed down her skirt. "Nevertheless we will go. You taught me to be polite and so I shall be."

China frowned, muttering, "only thing you actually kept of what I taught you aru~"

"Ne! Don't be so bitter, brother. Korea will make you and your breasts fill all right, right now, da ze!"

"Aiyaa!"

China dropped the letter on the floor.

* * *

><p>France patted the seat beside him and I sat warily.<p>

"Papa?" I asked and he smiled, always happy when I called him that old name. I did love him, though I rarely called him such names now but he was, and always would b,e mon papa.

"Mon petite, how ave you ah, been lately?"

"Good papa, and you?" I asked, wishing I had Kumakakei because I was so used to squeezing him in my arms. He wasn't here. He was home. Francis gestured to the coffee he poured. I took a sip and held in my grimace. There was maple syrup, at home, not in my drink. I should have bought maple syrup but Francis had called me in such a hurry that I had not had the time to put one a bottle in my pocket.

Oh no, papa had been speaking, I'd missed it.

"Eh? Sorry Francis, please come again."

France put down his coffee, next to mine (I'd only managed a sip out of politeness and Francis would actually notice if I hadn't drank,) and leant over, his palm touching my knee. I blushed, still not used to being touched that much even though Alfred was a very affectionate person.

"Ah, mon petite, I wanted to talk about little Amerique~ but I see that you are too enamoured with the l'amour surrounding us."

"Eh? Papa?" I leant back into the couch, seeing that dark look in France's eyes. I rested my hand behind me, it digging into the couch.

"Yes, my little boy?" France whispered, trailing his hand up my leg and I held one hand out to his chest, even as I put all the weight on the other. He was my papa, he had been an amazing father, still was, he was the only one who always, always recognised me.

He'd loved me as a child and I'd been – It was good to be with my brother but he and England. No, papa was touching me. I'd been taken away from him and I knew England felt guilt over what he'd done, but orders were – we were countries.

"W-wh, eh? D-didn't you want to t-talk about Alfred?" I stumbled out, my fingers curling into Francis' shirt. His hair grazed my cheeks, his blue eyes staring into mine and they scared me.

They frightened me.

He was looking at me like America did. Except, he was papa and he, no.

He kissed me on the forehead and I shook. He gently tugged me forward, my forehead against his chest, his arms around me, just like when I was a child. He peppered kisses to my forehead and I mumbled.

"What was 'at, mon cher?"

"I'm scared for Alfie, papa," I admitted softly and Francis drew my chin, so we were nearly nose to nose. He smiled softly even he rubbed his groin across mine, causing me to shiver.

"Me too, Matthieu~ but papa vill make you feel better for now."

"Papa? Eh?" I gasped, because he was – I could feel – papa had never done this before. "Why? Y-you've never – before – I, eh, don't understand …"

"Because papa loves you Matthieu and you have been so scared of l'amour ever since Amerique touched you like zat. I wanted to 'elp, but you did not ask and I did not know how to make it better."

My eyes widened, and I stared at the pained expression on my father's face. "How do you k-know?" This wasn't possible, I'd never told anyone, I'd – but he'd comforted me and, it didn't make sense. He would have talked to me. Why didn't he -

Lightning flashed, the sounds of the rain coming back in and there was a knock, knock at the window. We both turned, Francis on top of me and the smell of wine and roses permeating from my papa's neck and –

Oh.

His smile was wide, hair drenched, a gun in hand and we shrieked as he shot the window open. The wind came blowing in, Francis stood in front of me, yelling.

"What 'ave you done? Mon window!"

His glasses flashed, my knees shook and America aimed the gun at us.

"Hello sweeties, I've come to pick you up." Alfred cocked his head and I yanked France back from where he was gesturing wildly, words spilling in French from his mouth. He stopped, realised what was actually happening, what my brother looked like.

"Won't you two be darlings and come spend some time with me?~"

* * *

><p>I'm … really surprised I got this out. I wasn't planning to at all. I mean, I should be studying like mad right now but I'm watching HetaOni (HOLYSHITWATCHTHATSHIT! – Just stick to it, really and ignore the horrible graphics, but GAH! THE STORY! THE FANART! THE DESPPAAIIRRRRRR 0_0) Anyway, so I've been watching that and it made me want to write and be creative but I don't want to work on my novel, so I went for something easy and here you go. America going a little more crazy. Initially this chapter ended, uh, quite different, but I took that out and put it in the next chapter and now you've got this one.<p>

And I finally got to do a somewhat freaky France who knows what America did to Canada (yep, I didn't know that either until I wrote France's line, so I was as shocked as my baby Mattie.) I hope you enjoyed, I hope it's not too choppy and changey for you all and Matthew is a very scatter-brained thinker so he's pov will always be like that.

Reviews (and love LOVEMELOVEMELOVEME) will always be appreciated. Thank you to those who reviewed last time except for a certain reviewer - Honey, I went back and checked, you obviously have no idea what you're talking about since 'you're' is 'you are' and 'your' is possessive. That's what I did *facepalms.* There is also a difference between constructive criticism and getting (unrightfully) pissed off at the author and proceeding to tell them how you'll never read this fic again because of *blah-youdidallthiswrong-blah*

I shall now be mature and tell you to go roll in a small, dirty, ditch. Sincerely, the author.

P.S – for those of you who were a little concerned, I'm like 95% certain that there won't be full, blown-out rape in this. Maybe some touching but there's messed up love behind it, so it's (goes into tangent about yaoi love and cherry blossoms, because seriously, any romantic scene in anime, cherry blossoms just fly by, even if the windows closed and it's not cherry blossom season.)

So fear not, because even if it's in a fanfic, I don't treat rape lightly (not the way other people on fanfic tend to do, grr.)

Cheers

26/11/11: Updated. I changed a lot of them to third person, so from now on any other pov's will always be in third but my originals –America, Canada, England, Lithuania, Prussia and Romano will stay in first person.


	12. Get ready we're hitting the ground

**Get ready; we're hitting the ground running**

-*I just wanted to be beside you. I'm sorry, so sorry. Don't despair, it isn't fair. I have to do what my people demand of me*-

* * *

><p>-*In which the time is World War Two, Denmark and Norway have been occupied and little Finland is trying his hardest to fight*-<p>

"Why won't you fight me, ne?" I spat out, teeth bared and leaning on my good ole axe. Swede was opposite me, standing all arms crossed, face scary and _refusing_ to pick up a _god-damned weapon._

It was getting me all antsy and I came here so I could find someone worth fighting so I'd stop feeling so antsy. A fight where I wouldn't have to worry about killing the person, (not that I usually worried but humans were so weak) and also not worry about potentially getting taken over and being made a bitch to one of those pieces of shit Axis Power guys.

But someone just refused to cooperate.

"We've fought loads of fuckin times, Swede, so why won't you do it now?"

I narrowed my eyes as Swede shifted and raised his arm to the door, a finger silently pointing for me to get out. I raised incredulous brows.

"What the shit," I spat out. "You're not even going to talk to me ya mute little bastard?"

Swede nodded so I picked my axe and swung it, again, which only served to etch another mark in his already destroyed room. The bastard wouldn't stop dodging and I remembered a day, no, an era, when he wouldn't have been able to fight back. When he didn't fight me, but for me, with me.

Then he was all 'I'm leaving, with m'wife too,' because that's the type of ungrateful mute Nordic I am.

I smiled. Ah, his wife. Cute little Finland. That's how I'd get him to fight me, to get out some of this tension that was in my shoulders and wouldn't go away even when I saw my cute little Norway.

"Guess I'm not the only special one, you seem not to be talking to little Finland either." Swede twitched, purple lines shadowing his face. Don't ask me how it was possible, he just did it, same with that freaky Russian.

"Should've have expected it. You won't help little Tino so why would you do your old buddy a favour."

Snap.

Got 'im.

Sweden punched the wall behind me, his knuckles grazing my cheek. We were centimetres away, his glasses nearly touching my lashes as he towered over me.

I hated people towering over me, it was meant to be the other way around.

I smiled. "Ooh, got ya mad there didn't I _husband_?" And that just seemed to piss him off even more, if the glare was anything to go by.

"Ooh, so scary," I teased, body relaxed and face smug. "But I've seen you worse."

And I had, I'd fought him, tried to stop him from leaving my house. Didn't work as well as it had the other times.

Swede yanking his fist back, cracked bits of plaster fell near out feet.

"Are you angry? Do you want to fight?"

Sweden frowned even deeper and went to turn away from me.

From me.

So I might have exploded a little, but the shit was asking for it. He couldn't ignore me like that.

"Why don't you get up off your ass and just fight, you used to do it years ago, at the half-thought out request of your leaders, so why won't you anymore? Why won't you help your wife, why won't you help us!"

I paused and so did Sweden. That wasn't what I was meant to say.

I saw him swallow and he stayed in that half-turned position. "B'c'use I'v' been ord'r'd no' to."

"And that's stopping you?" I glared at him. "You're pathetic." I reached out, grabbed the collar of his military vest, which he had no reason to wear since _he wasn't fighting _and yanked him close.

"Let's see if you can live with yourself when your wife's a broken bleeding mess on the ground." I threw him away, ignoring all the aches that travelled up and down my body. I would be fine, I'd survived worse than this.

I'd fought and fought and had my own empire once upon a time. Hah. Once upon a time. Before Denmark and Finland had left me and the others … the others.

"You disgust me," I said lowly.

"Th'ngs change. M' lead'rs no l'ng'r wish t' fight. M' people no l'ng'r wish t' fight. I cannot help anym're, ev'n if I w'nt to," Sweden said, slowly and, though I didn't want to hear it, somewhat sadly. He stood, bent over and when he looked up at me his eyes were shimmering.

I balked, and shook my head, hand tightening on my axe. "I won't go down like this and I won't let them take my Norway either." And Sweden just watched me, that expression he'd worn so many times in my house just making me want to run away and hide. Or beat it out of him until he followed. He was meant to follow me, to cover my back.

But he wouldn't help me, his government – no, I didn't need his help, it was just little old Finland and the other's you know? He should be helping them.

"You left me years ago because of sweet little Finland, you fought me even though you were weak," I said and it was the first time I'd mention it since that time, so long ago.

"You were so weak, you needed me to protect you."

"I didn' need your prot'ct'on.

* * *

><p><em>*In which we have a flashback within a flashback, because Sweden's totally adamant about not needing Denmark's protection. It's 1523.*<em>

"I won't let you leave me. Either of you. Even if I have to beat you back down to where you're supposed to be. You are meant to stay under me, here, in my house and I will protect you."

"I d'nt need protect'n 'n if I did, it wou'd be fr'm you." Berwald said, blood congealing along his face and little Finland in his arms, the cut from my axe pouring blood from his chest.  
>"I gave you everything! You fought with me but I made sure you were never hurt. I killed your enemies. I fed you, I love you! What more do you want?" I cried, standing on wobbly feet and ignoring as Nor shushed Greenland behind the door. I'd told them to go upstairs, they should've gone upstairs.<p>

"Protectin' someone th' way you do, 's th' same 's callin' me weak. I'm not weak 'n I w'n't stay here." Berwald mumbled but his voice was strong and I didn't like it. I didn't like that I was the one nearly falling on my knees here.

"You'll fail if you leave. They'll rip you to pieces, both of you. And I'll be here with Nor and Green and Ice and I won't help."

Sweden had that look on his face. I hated it. I hated it so much. He wasn't supposed to look at me that way.

"I'm leavin' Den," he said softly, face stern but gentle all the same. He wasn't that scary, he was actually quite kind, he just didn't know how to communicate. "n I'm takin' Fin."

"You're an idiot." And he was, he was such a fuckin idiot. My vision wavered, blood splattered the floor and I knew the cut down my shoulder would scar. It would scar because this was the big one, this was the one that would separate us.

I'd ignored his complaints because I knew best. I did. I was protecting him, not calling him weak. He just didn't understand.

"You're an idiot Berwald! A stupid idiot."

"G'dbye Mathias."

* * *

><p>"How could he do this to me? And why does it hurt?" I asked, from where I lay bleeding and cry on the floor.<p>

Norway smoothed the wet cloth over my cheek and we both ignored the other two, crying behind the broken door.

I smashed his hand on the ground, the other covering my eyes. "Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid." Something was leaking from my eyes. It was wet and salty and my breath shuddered in my chest.

Norway washed away the blood.

* * *

><p>*In which it is present time, in our story, because the flashback is over*<p>

I bounded over to the rest of the Nordics, all who were sipping tea (Greenland, kid was getting hooked on it), talking (not talking in Sweden's case, he was too busy blushing at Finland's cuteness) and the random shit that Norway was always doing to Ice.

"Hey guys, guess what?"

Many ignored me but Finland paid attention, nose wrinkled as he absently batted away Sweden's hands from playing with his hair.

"What?"

I smiled, wide and full of teeth as I sat in the middle of the table, ignoring Iceland's huff of annoyance as the paper he was writing on moved. I held up a letter addressed to us all with my forefinger and that middle one that probably has a name but which I never remembered. Cause it was stupid and should be called the 'I-hope-you-die-in-a-rat-infested-hole' finger or, it's otherwise known name as the 'f' finger.

"Got a letter from Alfie."

"Please do not tell me it is what I think it is," Greenland piped in, Iceland nodding in agreement. Norway smacked Iceland when he moved.

"Brother says not to move."

Iceland balked. "I'm not calling you that." Norway proceeded to keep plaiting his hair, ignoring his denials.

"Yep," I said excitedly. "It's America's birthday again and we're all invited!"

* * *

><p>In my room I sighed happily, tightening the gag around Mattie's mouth. I couldn't have him getting away now could I?<p>

Arthur's eyes fluttered from where he laid, tied on the bed and body intertwining Canada. France pulled at the binds that tied him to the chair. I went to Francis, tilted his head up and I kissed him on the mouth, pulling back and licking my lips at the tear drops that lingered on his lashes.

"Heh," I said softly and Francis tried to speak, mouth working uselessly as nothing came out. "You're actually quite pretty you know Francis." I placed a gentle finger against his lips, shushing him. "Don't try to speak, everything will be alright. I just have to leave you guys here for a while. I have a party to plan."

I traced a finger down Francis' throat, delighting as I felt him swallow.

"Don't worry, you won't be alone for long," I said sweetly, leaving him and walking to the door. I paused, turned and wink at them all.

"The others will be joining us soon."

* * *

><p>Shit. Just. Got. Real.<p>

Yay~

Anyway, everyone please read **Tomato Soup**, it's my side story to this fic, set..um, I can't remember…a couple months before MVR started? Maybe? I wrote it in there. Anyway it's Romano/Spain and probably why this chappie is so short.

*Historical Note (I should probably do more of these since I actually check my facts): During the second war, Finland fought a costly war, Denmark and Norway were occupied and Sweden remained neutral but still felt the effects.

Sweden did however, send over 8000 support volunteers to Finland later on.

Also, during the Winter War between Finland and the Soviet Union, the alcohol bomb, or otherwise known as the "Molotov cocktail," was made famous The name is in insult to—rather than respect for—Vyacheslav Molotov, foreign minister for the USSR at the time and responsible for the partition of Finland.

And yeah, Finland refers to Sweden as his husband in that moment, but he's never going to admit it.


	13. Make believe

**Make believe**

-*Make believe make believe, you see the real me, hiding on the opposite of this face that's always smiling. Bared teeth, blood-drenched hands. Drip, drip. Make believe. Make believe that this isn't me.*-

* * *

><p>I opened the door wide, reaching out and pulling Kiku into a hug with a happy grin.<p>

"Kiku my man. You made it." I exclaimed happily, ignoring his mandatory squeak at the physical touching thing I always did. Greece waved at me half-heartedly beside him, a cat perched on his head and I yanked him into the hug as well. He went easily, arms circling both of us and poor Kiku started stammering and lightly pushing us away but attempting not to seem like he was pushing us away.

I could've mentioned it, that he was still a prude even though majority of the kinky shit came from him but I pretended to not notice and moved back, ushering them into my house. They walked in, Japan taking off his shoes politely and frowning at Greece until he did so too.

"Where shall I place this?" Japan asked, and I noticed the present in his arms. He was wearing a formal kimono, all dressed up for my birthday and he looked adorable.

"Just over by the cake, there's a table." Japan nodded, seeming to know what cake I was talking about though it was that big this year. Mattie had made me cut down and make it only ten feet high this year and it was just my usual colours.

It was my birthday and I brushed my hand through my hair, moving it around so it fell right. Japan and Greece had left, gone into the room with the others and I glanced out the door, eyes narrowed and watching.

Nothing. No one. Japan and Greece had been the last to come.

_No one would interrupt my plan._

I rubbed a head over my face, fingers running smooth circles around my temples. What had I been thinking? Something about . . . uh, never mind. I closed the door, locked it, pressed the button that locked all the others (_windows, doors, bars everywhere and we were so far away, in my private residence_) and returned to the lounge room where everyone was partying.

China screeched as he batted away Korea's hands and I saddled up beside them, grinning stupidly.

"What's up?"

Taiwan rolled her eyes, the pink ribbons in her hair swaying as she spun to face me.

"Happy Birthday America. Please forgive my brothers."

"Yo, what's with the formal speak?" I asked, fingering the remote in my pockets. "And I'm totally used to this. They just love each other. Reminds me of me and Iggy except I'm way more awesome and there's no way -"

_I would, I had –_

"would touch Iggy's boobs. Just gross."

Taiwan smiled slightly, bobbing her head.

"Aiyah? Love? This is rape! Rape aru. Why will no one help me aru? I'm an old man," China screeched, clawing at the hands that were now under his shirt and pawing their way up.

Russia moved in from behind, leant down to China's ear and whispered, "do you need help da? Maybe you should become one with Mother Russia and Mother Russia will protect you."

"Becoming one was invented in Korea."

"Sealand will become a big Nation one day."

"Brother, put down the drugs." Belgium again, smacking her brother.

"Ah, Netherlands~ How are you?"

". . ." That was Netherlands glaring at Spain.

I had a remote in my hand, that was weird. I uncurled my fingers from around it and left it in my pocket. And like, when we're we going to eat my cake? I wanted cake, seriously, but we had to do the whole celebrate thingy that Mattie always made me do and hey, it was his birthday a couple of days ago – I'd celebrated it. He'd never forget.

"Doitsu~" Italy called.

"Why does he call him that Asian thing?" I asked Japan, who, somehow, had made his way beside me without him noticing. A ninja I tell you, there was a reason they originated in Japan.

Ahaha, originated. Dirty dirty Kiku.

"It is Japanese America-kun."

"Yeah, Asian. So why does he call 'im it?"

Japan sighed for some reason, it wasn't important anyway.

"He heard me called Germany-san Doitsu and, in his exact words 'to make us all friends', he decided to use my language as well." Okay, I was pretty sure that the words were exactly like that.

"So what does it mean…and I'm pretty sure you missed a veh there," I said.

You know, sometimes Japan's face twitched in a way that made me think he wanted to hit me but I just sort of grinned cheerfully and eyed the cake, because if I ignored it then usually Japan just gave up.

"It means Germany, America-kun and I do not see the need to add the veh when you have already assumed there was, indeed, a veh involved," Kiku said, sort of huffed and sarcastic but still seeming polite.

". . . dude, this conversation has gone weird."

Japan folded his arms. "That seems to often be the case when I am around you."

I snorted. "Yeah . . . wait . . . did you just insult me?

Japan shook his head, serious. "I would never."

I pouted. "Oh ha ha kiku, you're a real crack up."

Japan nodded slightly, deadpan expression." Greece-san believes so."

And no one believed me when I send Kiku be a snarky little guy.

"Oi, sheep-boy, pass us the beer," a broad voice came across the room loudly.

"For the last time Australia, stop calling me that! It's a misconception, I don't think about Betty that way."

"Yeah mate, for sure you don't."

Australia caught the 4X New Zealand through with an easy catch. New Zealand was scowling, the bridge of his nose red.

"_Ah, I c-can't. I can't stop it."_

_I licked the shell of Francis' ear, breathing against it. It made his shivers worse and I laughed huskily._

"_Aren't they pretty?" I whispered in his ear and Francis twitched, turning his face away. I grabbed his jaw, forced him back. "Don't look away. Big brother would never look away from this."_

"_T-this is wrong Alfred. Please, stop eet," Francis begged, his accent thickening._

"_Papa, Dad. It's beautiful. You know you love it; I can even feel how hard you're getting." I squeezed around him, tight, feeling the warmth as he filled up underneath my fingers. _

_Mattie cried, his mouth brushing against Arthur's, unable to move far since the ropes kept them tied so close together. The strongest cable I had, because people forgot that Mattie was just as strong as me._

"_I-it's okay m'boy, it's not y-you're fault," Arthur stammered back, eyebrows furrowed as he moaned and squirmed because his dick was rubbing against Mattie's. They were so pretty together; they're stomachs becoming wet with their own arousal._

_The aphrodisiac was one of my best ideas. They couldn't even fight back._

"_Aren't Mum and Mattie have fun? Doesn't it look like so much fun?"_

_Francis gasped, trying not to thrust into my hand but his hips weren't listening to his murmurs in French. "Non, non, mon America, cher, you musn't –"_

"_Don't you dare get off on this F-francis." Arthur yelled, his fingers digging into Matthew's back and making him arch._

_Oh, I felt so warm, my fingers squeezed tighter and I used my other hand to work Francis' pants down, lower so I could move his thighs out, bare him for my eyes to see. I moved around, kissed his lips he half-heartedly struggled to get away._

_I saw his face, eyes watering, so beautiful, just like a woman and I smirked. "So pretty when you're crying Papa."_

"_Alfred." He tried to glare, but his mouth opened, eyes widened as I went down, my own mouth open and swallowed him whole, quite able to since I didn't have a gag reflex anymore. Russia didn't make those dirty insults about hamburgers for no reason._

_Mattie was moaning. "I'm sorry Mama, sorry, sorry," and his cries made me take Francis deeper, have his moans join the fray._

"_It's alright lad, everything will be fine. Just, just let your body do what it needs to."_

_Their sweat slicked bodies, those delicate collar bones begging me to bite, kiss and bruise them. Oh, I had the best family._

"_I'm sorry, I can't, uh, uh, I'm going to-" Mattie's cries rose louder, more to a shriek._

"_Damn you Alfred," Arthur yelled and I chucked around Francis in my mouth, because Arthur said I couldn't make him come and I just did._

_I choked on my chuckle as my mouth filled with heat and glanced up, seeing the aroused but relieved, guilty expression on Francis face fade as he looked at me, licking my lips. It changed to something between fear, panic and lust._

_It was absolutely beautiful._

_I got off my knees, trailed dripping fingers from his limp member up, past the stomach muscles cramped, between the peaked nipples and caressed the heated cheek._

"_Papa, I love you Papa. Don't you want to show me how to make love? Show me and teach Mattie, teach us. We want to learn from you."_

"_I vill not do what you want America."_

_I slapped him across the face._

"_Alfred, call me Alfred. I'm your son."_

"_Don't hit him," Arthur yelled and I turned, snarling._

"_And why not? You hit him all the time," I sneered, and Arthur couldn't look so scary when he was frowning at me with teared up eyes like that, wet white cooling between him and Matthew._

_I smiled, because little Arthur was starting to rise again. "Oh ho, maybe it turns you on? Who knew, Arthur was a sadist."_

"_I'm not-" Arthur screamed._

"_He's not –" Francis added weakly from behind me._

_But Matthew's groan cut them off and they both watched as my brother, bleary eyed, glasses off and gaze askew but somehow focused on me, started thrusting against his father, his shoulders rolling, arms twitching and his wrists rotating in the ropes. _

"_America, sto-"_

"_Papa, Papa. Don't call me that." I went back by his side, taking off my pants because they were keeping me too confined. All these noises around me, all these sights. _

_Mine, mine. All mine._

"_Non, I do not understand?"_

_I sat on his thighs, cuddled up to him and leant my head into the crook of his neck, kissing him there gently. His cheek was still red, slightly bruised from where I'd hit him. I hadn't meant to lose my temper, but he wouldn't love me. I needed him to love me._

"_Call me my name papa."_

"_Amerique," he said, that beautiful accent making me swallow, the taste of him still in my mouth._

"_Francis."_

_I mouthed love against his neck, sucked on him, bit, played with his nipples. He was hard against my ass, the feel of him, so naked, pressing into my thigh._

"_A-Alfred," he whimpered._

"_Yes Papa, I love you Papa. Look at them squirming against each other, so hot and sweaty and they'll be mine, you'll all be mine."_

"_Alfred, please, not like this. You cannot force this."_

"_And haven't you forced Mum? Haven't you wanted to bend mattie over and fuck him so he comes all over the room where you greet guests?"_

_Francis gasped, and choked and murmured out little nons. _

"_I see how you look at them. Why won't you look at me like that? Why? Why will no one love me?" I nuzzled him, trailed my fingers through his hair. "I just wanted to be equal but once I did I got all this power and now everyone expects me to be a hero but they always get so mad at me – " (they did, they always got so mad at me, why? Why couldn't they see I just wanted to help?) " – and I'm trying my best but no one sees me anymore, they just see America."_

_Wait, stop._

"_Francis?"_

_Mattie and Artie were groaning and thrusting on the bed, sweaty hair plastered to their face and lips brushing each other. _

_Something thick and warm was against my thigh, hip bone digging into my ass._

"_Why am I touching you?"_

_Yeah, my hand was around his –_

"_Alfred? You're back to yourself, please, undo the – uh!" I tightened my grip, licked up his neck and laughed._

"_I am myself Papa. I'm truly being myself."_

I pressed the button on the remote, my smile wide, feeling different on my lips, like this wasn't the way I usually smiled. The doors slammed shut, bars coated the windows and walls outside and everyone gasped/shrieked/cried out "Germany~/Doitsu (whatever mood Italy was in, he liked taking other countries words, an influence from Japan.)

I cocked my head as Switzerland pulled out the gun, swinging it around wildly even as Lichtenstein tried to control him. Egypt paused in his eating, the other Italy stopped swatting Spain away and the Cuban bastard's smoke dropped from his lips.

Russia was staring at me, at the remote in my hand, thumb pressed down on the button.

"Russia, why are you looking at America like that?" Lithuania asked, voice tight with fear like Poland and Latvia were wrapped tight around him, Estonia thinking quietly in the background. The yells, questions, disbeliefs and Prussia's exclamations of 'cool' stopped as everyone glanced between me and Ruski.

His face was set, aura rising. He was as pretty and cold and crazy as he'd been during our War. "I see your back."

My grin grew, Seychelle's held onto her fish tighter. "Oh Vanya," I giggled, not taking notice as Belarus twitched at the personal name and more tears poured from Ukraine's eyes. Sweden held Finland in his arms, jaw set and Denmark tightened his grip on his axe out, held in front of a stoic Norway and Iceland.

"I never left."

Gas steamed out from the vents and Japan started moving backwards, moving sleekly in his bare feet, Turkey following his movements.

"Everyone you must hold your breaths," Japan said, panicked and Hungary, quick as ever, took in a deep breath, grabbing Austria and Prussia and running towards the doors. I giggled, humming my anthem as they couldn't break the door open. I'd made it so only my strength could get us out. _None of them would be able to escape me._

Russia's pipe was swinging for my face but I dropped, rolled, kicked a foot out. Laughing, laughing, he always gave me such a good fight.

I avoided his punches, ducked under the pipe even as he stumbled, breathing in the gas. They started to drop around me, China gasping, clawing at the floor and Germany, holding a crying Italy as he kicked the door.

Russia, Ivan, he fell to his knees and I caught Japan, Kiku as he collapsed, right by me. I held him in my arms, his beautiful soft black hair shining and he gasped out weakly. "A-Americ-ca-kun."

I glanced down at him and his face stretched out with disbelief and shock, his hands grabbing at my shirt.

"Ssh," I hushed him, setting him down on the floor because Ivan was back on his feet, charging at me.

His swings were wild, they all dropped like flies, Ivan's eyes narrowing as he saw Lithuania pass out. The pipe hit the ground beside me, Ivan's movements slowing, only he, Germany and China left awake.

He thumped to his knees, the pipe leaving his hands and I wrapped my arms his head as his nose buried itself into my chest. I stroked his silver hair.

"Don't worry Vanya. Everyone will be happy with me."

"I-it does not work like dat Alfred," he said, body shaking as his system shut down, refused to listen to him. I'd already taken the antidote, but I still coughed once, the feeling of the gas lingering in my throat quite annoying. "I know . . . better than anyone." He did, he'd failed. But I'd succeed where he hadn't. I always succeeded where other's failed.

I kissed the rest of his protests away, those cold lips trying to bite me but unable to do more then make me open his mouth more until his body went limp and slid down to the floor, beside all the others.

I giggled happily, clapped my hands together. All their bodies, unconscious, splayed out for me to take as I want surrounded me.

Perfect. Everything was going just perfectly.

"Happy birthday dear Alfred, Happy birthday to me~"

This would be the best birthday ever.

* * *

><p>A.N: Sooo, hey everyone. How's life? Yeah, mine got busy. Like super duper busy. Buutttt. On a positive note.<p>

Guess who got a scholarship to Japan?

Oh yeahhh, that's right. I did. I freaking did cause I rock and I get to go with my friends. I'm going to Mukkkoooo-Japanese name I can't remember- Women's University for three weeks and I get to stay with a host family and it's going to be amazing. I am going to have to talk sooo much Japanese, it is going to help so much.

It's awesome.

On to other news, I love this chapter. I love it love it love it love it love it. I think it's the biggest snapping moment for America. He has gone insane. Japan was also awesomely awesome in this and the FACE thing was just something I had to do.

If that does not turn you on then I apologise, I'm sorry you couldn't enjoy it like I do.

Hope everyone's being amazing and that you loved this chapter and want to review~ :) I've also got a tumblr now so check on that if you want to see how my writing's going or you want to become my friend.

Peace out


	14. We're all just liars here

**We're all just liars here**

-*Forgiveness is a tricky thing and death is just a burden *-

* * *

><p><em>America<em>

I brushed his hair, a long slide down to the ends that were so healthy and looked after. Not a fracture or split, just beautiful dark tresses.

He was silent and I shuffled around to the front, working from the top of his scalp, down and down, brushing strands away from the sharp planes of China's girlish face.

He watched me with old eyes that waited, wary and unmoving and I smiled and hummed a little Chinese song he'd once sung to me, the words coming off my lips so easily because Chinese was an easy language for me to speak. So many of my people could trace their ancestry back to China, so we were practically family. I loved having a family, I'd grown up so alone, wandering and wandering until I found the first of my people, and then I'd lost them, just as I'd lost my Mayans, and Incas and Aztecs. And even when I'd had them, I'd come and gone, as I pleased, and so I couldn't get close to them. They'd seen me as a god, child-god that is, and I'd been revered with sacrifice and fear.

There hadn't been a lot of room for love.

And then I'd met him, the first of my real, true Nation family, and he'd cried tears of sadness not to have me, a child-god, want him. He wanted me for me, because he was like me. So I'd taken his hand and started this family.

I was so happy to have a family.

I finished singing and asked, "Isn't that song about Kiku?" China's mouth tightened just a fraction but that was okay, I would make everything okay between them, they would be brothers again. My brothers.

I swept back his hair behind his shoulders and clucked my tongue. "All done."

I spun around on my feet, giggling and throwing the brush off to the side. "Doesn't he look pretty Kiku?"

Kiku didn't answer.

I stopped giggling.

"I said, _doesn't he look pretty?_"

Kiku said nothing. I took a step forward.

"Kiku, why won't you talk to me? I'm sorry I got mad. I didn't mean to."

"Ame – Alfred," Yao interrupted, voice high and light. I turned around, ran back to him and collapsed at his feet, resting my cheek against the smoothness of his bare thigh.

"Kiku's ignoring me."

Yao shushed me, all shadows and angles because the light from the bedside lamp was not enough to brighten the whole room, and he placed a delicate hand against the top of my head.

"He's not ignoring you Ameri- Alfred. He is just sleeping. Yes, sleeping."

I rubbed my cheek against his thigh, shifted and kissed those gentle fingertips.

"Sleeping?"

Yao nodded, and continued to pet my hair, the movements calm and relaxing.

"He's just a little tired. He needs to recover."

Was it because I'd hurt him? I didn't mean to, I hadn't, I'd just –

"Okay, I shouldn't get mad then."

"No," Yao said softly. "You shouldn't."

Kiku's chin slid across his collarbone with his weak gasps, his eyes half opened and blearily trying to focus. Blood coated the bed and I would have to change that, the dried blood would completely ruin the mattress. Even if I loved Kiku all covered in red.

The scratched in words of mine on his arms and chest were just so pretty.

* * *

><p><em>Prussia<em>

"Mattie, what the fuck is happening?" I screeched, not that I screeched, cause that's unawesome, but I asked, nicely. But with demandingness because I'd just woken up with a pounding head ache and a worried, stressed out little pancake-making Canadian. It made me stressed too, especially because all the visible parts of his skin were covered in bites and bruises. And that was not cool at all.

"Oh god, Gilbert. Don't mov-"

Something cold and metal tightened around my neck as I bent to sit up, cutting off my air. Mattie grabbed me, pushed me back because I was straining, fighting with my teeth bared like the wild thing I'd been in the past, all instinct with no logic. Shameful, and I wouldn't admit it to West, but I'd reacted and it was only Mattie forcing me back with his super-powered strength that had the thing loosening.

I took a deep breath and Mattie's fingers clenched around my shoulders. Behind me a chain smacked against my back with the slack.

"If you go too far it will strangle you," Mattie said. I bent my neck, chin bumping into the smooth edges but I couldn't see it.

Mattie retreated, falling back on his legs that were folded underneath him on the bed and I gripped and tore at the collar around my neck. I may no longer be the Nation I once was but I still had some strength left in me.

I yanked and my muscles shook and Mattie watched with violet eyes and violet stained skin and I couldn't get the collar off.

"It won't work." And I had to shuffle back against the headboard because the chain wasn't that long and I couldn't breathe again.

"What the fuck is this?"

It was too much like –

He'd done this to me, collared and shackled and held me down like some dog that –

"What the hell is going on," I shouted and Mattie, the merest slip of white cotton that could be classed as a large shirt, covering barely any of his body, rubbed his hands over and over each other.

"America," he said softly and shit, this wasn't awesome, because we were in a closed room and the chain went into the wall and I just noticed the barred door that had to be impenetrable because otherwise Mattie wouldn't still be in here. I'd seen that kid play hockey against Russia, I knew he had some serious strength in those girly little arms.

"Gilbird."

Mattie looked at me incredulously, cheeks painted pale and shit, he didn't look good, only I was allowed to make him look like that and I wouldn't cause he was all sad and depressed and _hurt_.

I didn't hear the tell-tale cheep of Gilbird and I gave the chain an absent tug. The last thing I remembered was the gas in my mouth, trying to find Mattie cause he wasn't here and neither was France, though Spain was near the food, trying hard to get South Italy to eat some food from his plate. It had been America's birthday party.

Mattie had said America.

That crazy fucker had finally lost it. I'd been saying it for years. Sure, he was usually a pretty mad bro but he was twisting the way Spain did during his conquests and France did during his civil wars. This was bad. This was really bad. I'd been around a while, I knew these things, and we were living in a pretty cool time with peace (mostly) and technology and laws about not taking over other Countries.

"What did he do to you?"

Mattie trembled and bit his lip, eyes filling up with that shit that men don't have unless their me because I'm so awesome I can do that and it just made me angry. He'd made Mattie cry. Mattie didn't usually cry. I'd seen him cry after his Brother had burnt down his parliament and I'd had to deal with a raging, furious Canadian tearing down all the trees in his backyard. But those were tears of betrayal and rage. And then there had been WW1, the Battle of Passchendaele. I didn't like remembering that time, I didn't like what the Allies had done to one of their own, what they'd asked of him. I'd been on the opposing side, trying to lead my little brother to glory though I didn't see the point in this war, not for Austria and Hungary whose leaders had reacted with rage after the murder of the heir to the throne. Sure, it sucked, but the assassins had been Serbian and then those two had gotten into a piss-off and then drawn everyone else who had treaties into it. And then those people had brought in their colonies and at this time, I was really just focusing on staying home with the dogs, maybe hanging out with France and Spain every so often. I wasn't in the mood for war but Austria and Hungary, the great Austro-Hungary empire, had told me that I'd had an obligation.

West had been all too eager to step up to the plate, and maybe that was my fault, for what I'd taught him and what he'd seen me do but he was young and inexperienced and he was right, we were bound by duty. Both mine and he had our signatures on the treaty and though I'd turned on allies before, taken what I could, I'd always been clear about it and I'd never gone back on my word.

I never promised to protect them for eternity, just until I won this place or that. It was their fault for assuming we'd stay on the same side.

So WW1 had happened and then, the battle. Mattie had been sent there to be a meat shield and I'd turned up near the end, to a battered down troop, slicked with mud and blood and death and I'd fought with them.

I'd seen Mattie then, and it had been a while. He'd grown and matured and in the midst of the screaming humans and those drowned under mud, I'd seen the glint of his sweat-soaked hair behind a rifle and the steely gaze of determination.

And I'd wondered how they could send such a sweet, innocent boy to do this.

I fought him, gave it my all because he deserved no less and I had a brother to protect. And he'd won.

And he'd also let me leave.

"He's not himself, he doesn't mean it."

I jerked up, not caring that the collar went tight around my throat and this time I was the one who had Mattie by the arms, his delicate, little, bruised and bitten arms and disgust filled me because they had to be _America's teeth marks_.

"It doesn't matter if he meant it or not. He did it. We have to get out of here. He's gone fucking insane and he's, what did he do to you? –" I shook Mattie and he glared at me with defensive eyes that angered me as he smacked my hands away. I swallowed on nothing because I couldn't get any air. It wasn't because of the collar.

He was going to defend him, defend the fucker that had done this to him.

_Sweet and innocent Mattie, he'd cried at what the Allies done to him, but still, he'd proved them wrong and he'd persevered and still, they forgot him. They didn't even understand what that battle had done to him. They didn't see him stare at those poppies, or understand where all that fire came from when he played Hockey. I'd seen him cry. I'd seen him drop to his knees and with a bloodied face and tear-filled eyes, pick up his dead and carry them off the battle-field._

"I can't leave him! We have to save –"

"Fuck saving him! We have to save ourselves first and then deal with the biggest superpower on the world trying to do a Russia all over again," I shouted back because the look in America's eyes, the twist to his face, the way he'd ask me if we could do the Berlin Wall all over again.

He was going to do a Russia, he'd snapped, gone off the deep end.

He wanted us all to become his.

* * *

><p><em>Germany<em>

"Italy, stop crying."

Italy continued to sob, his hands weakly pulling at the electric manacle that was around his ankle.

"Italy," I grabbed at his wrists and held them there because last time the manacle had sent out an electric charge and I'd had to see my long-time ally, nuisance, possible friend, shake and convulse on the ground.

"Doitsu," he cried and I leant him throw himself at me, as per his usual way except this time his hair was matted with blood from where he'd knocked his head against the corner of the bed and his movements were weak because he'd been hurt. Tortured.

Once, in that War, when Italy had turned on me, _he_ had ordered Italy ransacked and I had gone, but only to convince Italy to come back. I had not wanted to hurt him but I had been too late, had not even been able to warn Italy of the attack and I'd seen him.

Crying, dishevelled, betrayed as he watched his people die.

And I had hid because I did not want to see the actions of my people against his and I could not – had not, I hadn't been able to fight _him._

Cowardly, weak.

Italy was meant to be shining, happy, annoying, useless.

I patted him on the head, feeling the shapes of his body against mine. I felt warmth, glanced down at the red on my hand and then I was tearing at the sheets from the bedspread.

Act, don't think, react and fix it, you have a job to do, just like in war, in all of the Wars.

He cried and I shushed him. Bandaged his head.

Planned. Thought. Scrapped them all and went back to trying another way to get us out of here.

I shuffled him to his feet, ignoring the way he held on to me.

"We need to get out of here."

"B-but the door is l-locked." Sniffle, cry.

"Yes it is."

There had to be another way.

America was very smart. He had won wars, he had separated from the longest Empire recorded, and I had been with him as he'd helped rebuild my country. He was intelligent, charismatic, a worthy adversary.

But we were meant to be living in times of peace now. I had taken that for granted. Now I had to protect Italy.

"D-doitsu," he murmured and I absently glanced down, taking my eyes off from my search for weaknesses in this room that had to be underground because of the lack of light, the sterile walls and that sense a Nation had when they can tell they are surrounded by earth and dirt.

By foreign land, something else; America.

"What is it Italy?" Gruff, short, I didn't know how to comfort him. I would just get us out of here and then Italy to the doctor's. I would even make pasta for him. He would eat it, and say I'd overcooked it but pasta was pasta and he loved it.

"W-we'll be fine," he said, voice clogged with tears. "A-america will come back to himself. Or, or, you'll get us out of here."

His brown eyes gazed up at me and I felt something unnecessary, unneeded, useless, stick in my throat.

"I don't want you to get hurt, America won't hurt you okay Ludwig. I won't let him."

The bandage started to seep red around his forehead and I swallowed. Weak, useless Italy. It was better that way. I wouldn't force him fight, to change.

I felt. I felt.

Anger, that rage _he _had once stoked in me and my people after World War 1. I couldn't be blinded by it again. I couldn't.

Italy tightened his grip, his soft nails pressing into my bicep.

"I will not let him hurt you again, Italy."

Italy nodded, sniffled. "Promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

><p><em>Lithuania<em>

Hungary slammed against the door again, her dress all tattered and hair a mess. Latvia shook and sobbed silently in my arms, years of experience allowing him to curl into the tiniest ball possible.

Bam. Hungary smacked into it again, expect this time she stumbled, the thick heel of her shoe finally snapping off. She screamed in frustration, kicked the door and collapsed. Austria rushed in, his glasses missing, cravat and cloak gone and a bloodied shoulder from where he'd gotten in the way when America had come in.

They were all still so weak from the poison and Lithuania soothed his lips and hands over Latvia's shaking head. He hummed a tune, a little Lithuanian tune he'd come to sing after one of Russia's moments, when they were hiding after the aftermath and Russia was in the lounge room, trying to freeze away the guilt.

Lithuania knew Russia very well, as well as you could know a mad, psychotic, child of a man and he'd always known what Russia had been doing. But in those moments, Estonia and Latvia had needed him more and he'd made his decisions years ago.

He would not change from it now.

Hungary, frustrated, ashamed of her supposed weakness in failing to protect them and with worry for the others, tried to get back up from her ex-husbands arms. He did not let her, silencing her with a quiet, "no, that will do no good."

Lithuania, legs folded underneath him, kept humming, trying to calm the others and slowly, so slowly, Latvia fell into one of his fitful sleeps.

Until the door slammed open, and America dropped a battered and swollen-faced Poland onto them both, startling Latvia awake.

America smiled widely but it was mad and Hungary got up to attack.

America took her down easily, throwing her weaker, gentler ex-husband onto the bed after her and he stared at Lithuania.

"Toris, Toris, Toris," he sang. "Poland wouldn't play nice so I had to punish him, but you've always treated me nice. How about you and I spend some alone time together? Everything will be happy then. I can make you happy. We can play house just like we did in the 20s."

Poland twitched weakly in his arms, groaned out a "no, Toris," as Latvia shook and the two older Nations tried to overcome their pain.

And Lithuania, knowing that insanity, having seen it in both him and another, did what he had always done. He stood and he protected his brother and his people. He reached out to America's hand, kicking off Poland's shaky grip on his ankle and they left the room.

America shut the door behind, breathed in the scent of Lithuania with his nose to Lithuania's neck and his mouth pressing kisses lower. He'd left them behind but it was for a reason. He prayed for Poland, because he still prayed in times of need and he knew the boy would be okay, he would bounce back as he had always done.

So Lithuania waited and bided his time, as America hummed happily and led them to somewhere else in this underground lab. They passed other doors, with hoarse voices screaming out, in all a matter of languages and others just kicking the door. He even heard the familiar cries of the younger Italy, sobbing and begging Germany to not worry because he was sure everything would be okay.

He had to remember, all the doors, all the Nations. He'd come back for them later.

Because as Lithuania slipped the knife out, the knife he'd always kept in the sole of his shoe and then moved to his pocket before America had returned, he knew that they wouldn't make it wherever America planned for them to go.

America wasn't Russia, he wasn't in charge of his Country or his people or politics. This time, Lithuania could fight back, threaten War, protect his friends. This time he didn't have to play weak.

* * *

><p>I'm not dead. I just went to Japan. That was fun. Thank you to my amazing anonymous reviewer who told me all about the Battle of Passchendaele, which was absolutely fascinating. If it quirked your fancy, go read up about it. Mattie totally has PTSD from it.<p>

I did not expect Lithuania to go this way, his shining moment was meant to be with Russia, not with America but I'm quite happy with this character arc. Lithuania has been through a lot, and he knows how to be calm in these situations. America is a danger to them all, he hurt Poland, was going to hurt Latvia and Lithuania will not stand for it. He has not Treaties with America condoning this, he's made no Oath to let America have control of him or his people and Lithuania will not go back to a crazed Nation again.

Lithuania cares for America, America did save him from Russia for a time after all. But, in being his friend, he feels that is the responsibility of someone that loves America, to be the one that takes him down.

Lithuania is going to stop him. Or at least try. I say no more.


End file.
